


As the President Dictates

by Emerial



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Drabble Sequence, Drama & Romance, F/M, Post-Dirge of Cerberus, Turks as family, Wait romance? What?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerial/pseuds/Emerial
Summary: Give a man power and he will abuse it...or something like that. Elena supposes this is best(?) case scenario. [Rufus's questionable way of expressing his fancy, and the things he has the Turks do.]





	1. The Long Prologue

  1. **Just another day**



It was just another day at the Shin·Ra, Edge HQ. Having just recently settled into the city, the situation inside the company had been quite chaotic as they wrestled with the influx of paperwork resulting from all the…strategic mergers with the more influential corporates in Edge.

The company was finally back on its feet, and, equipped with the knowledge of Shin·Ra’s future plans for development, Elena couldn’t help the excited bounce to her steps as she rushed through the long corridor of their new HQ to deliver the latest status reports to her President.

  1. **The new branch**



They’d bought a large three-storey building nestled in the busier section of Edge. The stairs were creaky woodworks, and the beige hallways still carried that smell of old paper and ink from the former printing company that had resided in the building.

It was a far cry from the Junon mansion that she was used to, but regardless Elena was happy because Rufus was here. And if Rufus was here then Tseng would be too. While Reno would be far, far away.

  1. **Are we…safe?**



Despite the work keeping her up late into the nights, Elena must admit that the timing of these takeo—these mergers couldn’t be better. Rufus had made use of the rattled state of Edge’s economy after the Deepground crisis to safely plant Shin·Ra back in Edge without much resistance from the people or WRO.

Their recovery was well back on track, but it still didn’t feel real. After so many setbacks, it was hard to find it in herself to believe that Shin·Ra was finally back on its feet.

  1. **Maybe not _that_ far away**



“Yo, Pres, what’d you need me for?”

She’d run into Reno on her way to Rufus’s office on the third floor. Literally. Documents strewn and papers aflutter, and all. If you asked her, he’d done it on purpose just to mess with her.

Rufus looked up from his laptop as they placed the documents onto his desk. His countenance was unreadable, but the light twitch in his lower lip before he spoke alerted both Elena and Reno to his displeasure. “Reno, I called for you an hour ago.”

“It took an hour to get here from Healen!” Reno exclaimed.

  1. **Boss, are you okay?**



“What is this?” Rufus asked when she flopped the stack of folders down on his desk. The blue gaze he directed at her was hard and if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was annoyed at _her,_ too. But really it was just the lack of sleep getting to him. Because, see, she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“The Junon paperwork sent over by Sir Veld, sir,” she informed, “They need your signature to proceed.”

“Very well,” Rufus nodded, “You may go, Elena.”

“Um, what about the blueprints you said needed to be copied and delivered to Corel?” Their scientists have recently developed a more efficient method of extracting oil, and they were in the process of negotiating with Barret Wallace for installation of the new equipment.

There was a split moment where she thought she saw surprise in his eyes before it disappeared. “Right,” Rufus muttered under his breath, looking tired.

  1. **Just…another day?**



“You can find it under F.” Rufus pointed to the row of filing cabinets pushed against the left side of the room.

“Sir,” Elena said and went to the cabinet, keeping a neutral face even though a few questions were popping up in the back of her mind. Standing tiptoed, she reached into the F drawer.

The ex-leader of AVALANCHE wasn’t being very cooperative in working with Shin·Ra, but still it was rare to catch the President off his game. For that matter, why would he call for Reno when Tseng was here?

And then she heard her boss say, “I want you to keep tabs on Tifa Lockhart.”

  1. **Unease**



“I want you to keep tabs on Tifa Lockhart.”

Both Reno and Elena found themselves staring at their boss in shock. At Rufus’s no-nonsense expression, however, Reno straightened his back and did a quick salute. “Aye aye, boss. ‘nything in particular I should look out for?”

“Just keep an eye on her.”

“Um, well yes, but like, is there a code red?”

Rufus seemed to hesitate, “Anything significant, make notes of her plans, her interactions.”

“…Roger that.”

So vague! Could it be something they weren’t cleared to know? Did Tseng know? Was it another incarnation of AVALANCHE? But Shin·Ra hadn’t done anything hostile…Well, those recent takeovers were kind of hostile, but ultimately that was just standard business. It wasn’t anything that warranted terrorism.

  1. **It’s probably nothing**



“What was that all about?” Elena asked Reno after they’d walked a corridor away from Rufus’s office. “Are we in disagreement with WRO again?”

“Dunno,” Reno shrugged with hands in his pockets. “Maybe he heard or saw something at the WRO event last week. Rude said Lockhart came to those in Cloud’s stead. Man, that guy’s always turning down free booze, and here I’m wishing Pres would take me just _once._ ”

Elena narrowed her eyes. “…I think that’s exactly why Rufus isn’t taking you, Reno.”

“Hater,” Reno made a face but soon snapped back to his usual grin, “Anyways, Pres’ just prolly being overly cautious. I’m off to play spy, honey. Woo! Goodbye paperwork!”

Holding the blueprint in her hands, Elena narrowed her eyes at the redhead’s retreating back in slight disdain as well as envy. Not only did he have an excuse from all the paperwork they were having to deal with, Reno had just been assigned to frequent his second favourite place after the Honey Butterfly Inn. It was practically a paid vacation for him.

  1. **When work is play**



Reno lounged on the booth seat in the corner of Seventh Heaven, an arm draped over the back of the chair as he tilted his head and let the whiskey slide across his tongue and down his throat. Lockhart had a good punch and her mixes packed a pretty good one, too.

As the buzz started to spread through his system, Reno kept a lazy gaze through the rim of his glass, watching the eye candy of a barkeep wipe down the counter before the customers started coming in.

“Are you sure you’re not supposed to be at work or something, Reno?” she asked.

 _Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart_. “Po-sitive, ma’m. Didn’t know I was so unwelcomed here,” he slurred.

“It’s not that.” Lockhart let the gray towel hung over her shoulder and put a hand on her shapely hip. Man, he missed her old outfit that showed off her midriffs. “But what’ll I do if you get fired and have no money to splurge on my bar?” she grinned, and the alcohol in his system was making her seem extra adorable.

“Pfft, no way. Pres was so impressed with my diligence he gave me days off, yo.”

“Good for you, Mr. Drunk,” she came over to grab his empty glass. “Refill?” she offered with a wink.

Damned witch trying to wring him dry. But ah this is work. He could just bill the Pres later.

Reno smirked. “Get me some of the top shelf stuff.”

  1. **Person of interest?**



It was out of nowhere and ludicrous. Lockhart, a person of interest? Her name hadn’t come up in the company for a good long while and for good reasons.

Day in day out, she tended the bar, tended her children, talked with Shelke Rui, looked out the window and waited for Cloud Strife to come back from deliveries. Her life, as it unfolded before Reno, was utterly boring. The woman was irrelevant to their endeavors and he didn’t see why the Pres had ordered for surveillance.

If anything, Reno glanced at the little girl helping behind the counter, looking into that former Tsviet member would make more sense.

  1. **Inclusion**



“Haven’t you been around too much lately?” asked a suspicious Cloud, who didn’t have deliveries and was rearranging the tables and chairs after the busy part of the night had passed.

“Shaddup, I’m a paying customer, busboy,” Reno bristled but kept his tone laidback. He didn’t really like Cloud at the moment, what with the shaky, house-of-cards deal between him and Lockhart.

Cloud kept his gaze stubborn and was about to say something when Lockhart tapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Cloud. Reno’s family. Now come help me with this table.”

And Lockhart was off to the other side of the bar with Cloud in tow. Didn’t even spare Reno a glance.

But as he stared at her back with his chin on his knuckles, Reno felt a tug at the corner of his mouth. Yep, he’d soon prove to Rufus that the woman’s life was bland beyond anyone’s interest.

  1. **Unease (2)**



Rufus was not happy.

Their President was not happy at all. That much was clear as Elena meekly collected some folders from the drawers in the President’s office. Tension was thick in the air, choking out all other noise except for the sharp tap of a finger on the desk. _Tmp, tmp, tmp,_ which cut through the silence like hot knife through butter.

It had been a week since Reno had started watching the barkeep of Seventh Heaven, and, as far as Elena was aware, the reports coming back had been…uneventful. Tifa didn’t do much, and Reno’s efforts in tapping the phones had only yielded telemarketers on the landline and less than juicy conversations with Cloud Strife on the cell.

Tifa Lockhart’s life was unbelievably routine.

Maybe that was the problem. _Unbelievably_ routine. Judging from Rufus’s sour mood, he clearly didn’t believe it.

  1. **A Turk’s Failure**



Elena was helping Tseng sieve through the employee records in Rufus’s office.

She did not envy Reno, who stood before Rufus with back straight as a washboard, void of his usual attitude. His hands were clasped in front of himself, in front of his nether region – the classic pose men subconsciously assumed when they felt threatened.

“Reno,” the President’s voice was light, but it shattered the silence hard enough that Reno, and even Elena who had nothing to do with the scene before her, jumped.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ve made a mistake with you.”

She could see the colour being drained from Reno’s face.

  1. **Dismissal**



Reno stepped forward. “No, sir. I can do better. If she’s hiding something—”

A raised hand from Rufus cut him off, and he returned to his deflated posture from before, though in his eyes Elena could still see the cogwheels creaking at full speed. Both Elena and Tseng had stopped what they were doing to tune into the conversation, ready to assist their sworn brother if things turned worse.

“Miss Lockhart doesn’t suspect you.” Rufus’s tone of voice dangled in the space between a statement and a question.

“Not at all, sir! I frequent there and Tifa trusts me. She even defended me when Strife started asking questions. I assure you, I won’t be compromised.”

That was rather impressive, actually. It wasn’t every day that Tifa Lockhart defended anything Shin·Ra related. Rufus, however, looked absolutely unamused.

“Tseng will take over the mission.”

  1. **Where loyalty lies**



“Sir!” Reno began to protest.

“It’s fine, Reno. You are not being penalized. You’ll return to your post.”

“No, I—” Reno felt a twitch somewhere on his face as his mind scrambled to follow the situation. He had a million things he was about to say, but all of them had gone moot. “Um, what?”

“Rude has been overwhelmed by the work in Healen since you’ve been gone. I shouldn’t have let you leave your post for so long. Tseng will take over the mission.”

“Oh…okay—I mean, yessir.”

Rufus sat back in his chair and brushed a blond lock away from his face. “Was there anything else you wished to say?”

“…No, sir.”

“Then you may leave.”

After Reno had closed the door behind his back and taken a moment to recompose himself, he realized he was already preparing himself to view Lockhart as the enemy. Loved the woman, but if she was gonna go against Shin·Ra, who was doing _no_ wrong right now, mind you, then honest to Minerva, he’d bring her down. Her and any of her friends.

“Fuck…” Scratching his head, he strode for the stairs.

So much for family.

  1. **Working under Rufus**



No penalty? If Elena were Reno, she would be thanking the Planet’s good graces.

Despite how affable Rufus seemed to be most of the time, he ran a tight ship when it came to his company. Ruthless, perhaps; even tyrannical at some points, but they couldn’t deny that Shin·Ra under his leadership had managed to stay afloat despite the abysmal state of this year’s economy.

When he told you to do something, he expected it done and didn’t take kindly to failures. For Turks, his expectation was even higher.

A lot of pressure, but on the bright side it meant he trusted them that much more compared to the regular paper-pushers.

  1. **Unease (3)**



Reno’s mission had fallen on Tseng now, and that said something. Tseng was Rufus’s aide and the Turk’s leader as well as pride. A figure like him didn’t get assigned to missions unless it was very important.

Elena suddenly realized that whatever that was going on with Tifa Lockhart must be bigger than she’d originally thought.

  1. **Déjà vu?**



“So I’ll be keeping an eye on Miss Lockhart?” Tseng confirmed.

“Yes.” Rufus looked like he didn’t want to pursue the subject any further, which didn’t make sense to Elena. She knew Rufus had a tendency to be cryptic, but he’d never been this vague with missions before.

Tseng most likely thought the same as her. He remained silent, dark eyes assessing their President as though deciphering a code. “Is there any particular purpose to this mission?”

“To keep watch on her.”

Tseng nodded. “Not a problem. But is there anything in particular that you’re looking for?”

“Just watch her.”

Elena just stood and watched the exchange with slightly narrowed eyes.

  1. **Uncertainty**



Tseng was in his own office now, accompanied by Elena. He turned the pages of Reno’s reports that Rufus had given to him for shredding, saying that there was no use keeping them.

 _Watch for Tifa’s plans and interactions,_ Elena had supplied when she’d found Tseng mulling over the reports, and he didn’t see a problem with the work Reno had done with that instruction in mind.

However, wasn’t Tifa Lockhart’s life a bit too mundane? Maybe Reno had missed whatever that Rufus was looking for, and if that was the case, their target was being extremely careful.

“Do you think this is anti-Shin·Ra, Tseng?” Elena asked from the corner of the room, where she was feeding the older reports to the shredder. “We were doing so well, too.” He could hear the dejection in her voice.

“We should only speculate based on evidence,” Tseng reminded as he moved around the room, organizing paperwork as well as preparing for his mission, “I think Rufus might not even be sure what exactly he wants to find out.”

Something about this mission felt very strange to Tseng, and Rufus’s vagueness was just a part of it.

  1. **Hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst**



Rufus was going off of a hunch, Elena concluded. And while he had always had good instincts for this kind of things…“I hope he’s wrong this time,” she confessed, turning to look at Tseng.

Tseng glanced up from the cardboard box he was shuffling through and held her gaze for a significant moment. “So do I,” he conceded and went back to his work.

It made her feel better to know she was not alone in thinking so. They’d all been through enough, whether it was Shin·Ra or AVALANCHE. The world didn’t need another conflict.

Well, the mission was in Tseng’s hands now. He would surely clear up this cloud of suspicion, be it for better or worse.

  1. **Tseng the overachiever**



Elena had a glimpse through the notes Tseng had taken for his report. They detailed not only Tifa’s activities but also her relationships, from close friends to passing customers.

Nothing was too minor. No interaction was overlooked.

All the information Tseng collected was…for lack of better wording, stalker level – sans the obsession, of course…and the professional language made it less creepy…or more depending on how you tilt it (he kept referring to Tifa as ‘the target’).

In any case, at this rate there was no way Tifa could hide anything from Tseng.

  1. **Just… _why?_**



It was day two into Tseng’s endeavours to capture the daily life of Tifa Lockhart on paper. A lot of paper.

Elena, who had stood in as Rufus’s temporary aide for the duration of Tseng’s mission, gaped in awe at the thickness of the report being presented before Rufus as Tseng stood impassively, waiting for feedback. From next to Rufus, she glanced at their President’s expression to confirm the same awe, or at least a spark of appreciation in those cold blue eyes, but saw none of the sorts. Just a look of resignation, of all things.

 _Why?_ Elena wanted to cry out as Rufus flipped over – _flipped,_ not read, _flipped_ – the report with his lips in a thin line as though holding back a sigh.

“You’re very good at your job, Tseng,” Rufus said, which gave her a small ray of hope. Of course, Tseng was good at his job!

“You’re too kind,” Tseng dipped his head for a fraction of an inch.

Rufus rubbed his thumb over the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a looming headache and set down the report. “I’m taking you off the mission.”

  1. **A Turk’s failure (2)**



Rufus’s words came as a shock to both Elena and Tseng. Her mouth hung open, and Tseng lost his staid demeanour, if only for a second.

The President hadn’t said it, but he hadn’t needed to. They had heard it loud and clear in his tone: ‘ _I’ve made a mistake with you.’_

  1. **Pride**



“With all due respect, sir, was the report lacking in any way?” Tseng inquired.

Elena wanted to protest with all her might. Lacking? There was no way that report was _lacking_.

And it had only been two days! Who terminated a spy after two days!?

“No, not at all,” Rufus said carefully, and Elena simmered down a bit. The President placed his hand on the report, “but I didn’t need you to do this.”

Blood drained from Elena’s face as she swore she saw something _break_ in Tseng’s eyes. She wanted to run over and hold him together lest he started falling apart right then and there.

  1. **Isn’t that what spying is?**



“You didn’t alert Miss Lockhart at all,” Rufus voiced his question like a statement.

Tseng, who’d recovered quicker than Elena could blink, replied, “Yes, sir. The target is none-the-wiser.”

Rufus made a noise of acknowledgement and seemed to be perusing something, his long fingers rapping out a distracted rhythm on the folder of Tseng’s report.

As the figurative clock ticked on, she caught Tseng’s gaze and they exchanged a look. She quirked an eyebrow to ask if Tseng had any idea why their President was acting like this, to which Tseng slowly closed his eyes in place of a wry headshake.

She stifled a sigh. Tseng knew Rufus best and even he was clueless.

“Elena, you take over.”

She straightened her posture. “Yes, President.”

  1. **Wait, what!?**



Elena had so many questions, so many grievances she didn’t know where to begin.

Did Rufus just give a mission that Tseng and Reno couldn’t do to her? _Rookie Elena_?

Was she supposed to outperform her seniors? In what way? How? Did Rufus trust her that much?

  1. **Rookie no more**



Wait, _did_ Rufus trust her that much? If he said she should do it then he _believed_ she could do it. Then who was she to disobey? Rufus always knew best. The current Shin·Ra was proof of that.

So she accepted the mission with wholehearted motivation. She wasn’t going to fail their President. She would finish this mission and prove the worth of Turks in the company.

The clumsy rookie was a thing of the past, much like the old Shin·Ra tower.

  1. **A Turk’s failure (3)**



“What are you doing here, Turk?”

The sound of a gun being cocked was chillingly loud in the dark alley behind Seventh Heaven, and Elena found herself staring down the muzzles of Cerberus.

She squeezed her eyes and pressed her lips together to keep her scream of exasperation at bay.

The scent of smoke from her notes, which she’d burnt in haste to erase evidence, mingled with the smell of garbage and some substances she’d rather not name, creating a putrid mixture that made Reno’s alcohol breath smelled like sun-dried linens.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid Elena._

  1. **How she got here**



Three days into her mission, Rufus had seemed decently satisfied with the reports Elena was bringing back. “So the old AVALANCHE party is gathering in Seventh Heaven,” he’d mused, “Pay attention to it, Elena.”

And she’d been right on top of it. Allegedly, the gathering was for a birthday, the little boy’s, Denzel’s. But when extremists were involved, who knew what they were really plotting behind that innocuous façade.

Her logic made sense.

As Elena stood with gloved hands in the air, the boisterous sounds of laughter and people moving around inside Seventh Heaven could be heard drifting through the small, bright window above her head.

It made sense… _Right!?_

  1. **A respected senior**



“I asked a question, Turk.” The dark voice belonged to none other than Vincent Valentine, the former Turk who now belonged in WRO’s ranks, and her and Tseng’s saviour, i.e. someone she really, _really_ didn’t wish to get on the bad side of.

“Nothing, senior!” she simpered. “J-just a stroll.” Dammit her voice cracked.

Brooding crimson cape dissolving into darkness and bandana obscuring his visage, Vincent was impassive. His glowing red eyes glanced down at the last bits of Elena’s notes that were still burning a cherry shade, then back to Elena.

Elena averted her gaze. She wanted a hole to crawl into.

  1. **Could we be the bad guy…? Again?**



“What does Shin·Ra want with us?” asked Vincent, gun still pointed at her head.

_Very good question, senior!_

What _did_ Rufus want with Tifa Lockhart? From what Elena had managed to observe so far before Vincent showed up, the bartender’s life was just as bland as Reno’s and Tseng’s reports.

She saw no sign of any foul play. If anything, _their_ – the Turks’ – invasion of the woman’s privacy was the foulest thing that had happened during the past week and a half.

  1. **Boss??**



When Vincent saw that she couldn’t, rather than wouldn’t, give a definite answer, he let her go with a warning. Maybe that was why Rufus was so secretive regarding the details.

“President, I take full responsibility for mission failure,” she said with head bowed so low her back could be used as a makeshift table. “I’ve neglected to take into account Vincent Valentine’s keen senses and prior Turk training. It can be assumed that Tifa Lockhart is now alerted to our supervision of her.”

“It’s fine,” his voice startled her first before the meaning sank in and she perked her head up to a – if she wasn’t mistaken – pleased Rufus.

  1. **A Turk’s…success!?**



It was by no mean apparent. Rufus had a smiling poker face that lost only to Tseng’s and Rude’s stoic ones.

However, Elena could tell, as one of his closest employees, that this was one of his pleased smiles. It was the ghost of a glint that brightened his eyes, the relaxed tilt of his head, and the way he angled his shoulders that made the air around him easier to breathe in.

“…Sir?” Elena didn’t hide her perplexity.

“It doesn’t matter that she knows. Please continue to keep an eye on Miss Lockhart.”

  1. **Late night visitor**



The metal doors slid open with a ding, and Rufus got out of the elevator. He slid his key card through the recognition pad to enter his penthouse on the seventeenth floor. As soon as he stepped into the darkness and the door closed behind him, he knew there was something wrong because the usual beeping of his security system wasn’t there to nag him for the disabling code.

He immediately reached for the sawed-off shotgun inside his suit, eyes scanning the living room with the aid of the city lights. Before he could contemplate turning on the lights, however, he’d found the intruder.

A caped figure tucked away in the corner, and a pair of red eyes gleaming in the shadows.

Rufus chuckled under his breath and lowered his hand from the gun’s handle. “Vincent Valentine,” he greeted, hitting the light switch to reveal one of the world’s heroes, standing rather out of place against the white-toned wall.

  1. **Roles in a story**



“I assume Miss Shelke Rui helped you fry my alarms?” Rufus gestured to the silent numeric keypad to his left, “You know if you’d just knocked I would have happily invited you in. Breaking and entering is terribly unbefitting of a man of your status, don’t you think?”

“And yet you’re never above meddling with people’s lives,” Vincent countered from behind his collar.

Rufus shrugged off his jacket before taking a seat on the couch by the coffee table. “I play the part of the villain quite well if I do say so myself. Would you care for tea?” he offered, pulling a tea set out from underneath the table.

“Why are you watching Tifa?”

What tea that was left inside the pot was stale, so Rufus got up to discard it. “Miss Lockhart? Whatever gave you that idea?”

“A Turk was at Seventh Heaven.”

“You mean yourself?”

Narrowed red eyes. “The girl. Elena.”

“Our Elena? I’m afraid I can’t help you. Elena had been off duty as of late. I don’t know how it is in WRO but Shin·Ra doesn’t keep track of—”

“If you hurt her.” Vincent was suddenly right in front of Rufus as he was about to arrive behind the kitchen counter.

Rufus smirked as the silence consolidated between Vincent and himself. _Tifa, Tifa, Tifa, look at all the hearts you’ve captured._

  1. **The harmful element**



Matching the hard stare from Vincent, Rufus could see in those blood eyes the determination to make truth of the unsaid threat. The sharpshooter was too close for comfort, but he wasn’t about to back away even if it meant regaining his personal space.

“I shall heed your caution, Sir Guard Dog. Though, are you sure you should be worrying about _me_ hurting her?”

Vincent’s expression, if there was any, seemed to be more out of mistrust than anger. Rufus walked around Vincent and dumped the teapot’s content into the sink. “Now,” he opened the cabinet right above the sink and counted through the tea jars inside, “would chamomile tea be okay? I can attest that it helps with relax—”

He turned around to find that he was alone in the living room, and the sliding door to his balcony was open, welcoming a chilly breeze into the penthouse.

Coming and going as he pleased. My, such impolite company, that man.

  1. **Meanwhile in Healen…**



“Rude! You’re back, yo!” Reno popped up from behind a comically tall wall of folders on his desk.

Rude gave a grunt and closed the door behind himself, hanging up the car key on the hook by the door. So Reno had returned while he was gone. Good. He’d been a bit apprehensive to leave Healen with just the new Turks.

“Partner, you gotta hear this,” Reno walked around the desk to saunter over to Rude, hands waving around as he was probably working himself up to telling some crazy story.

“We might go to war with WRO!”

It _was_ crazy.

  1. **Was it not obvious?**



“I’ll listen later.” Rude usually didn’t mind humouring Reno, but he’d just returned from Junon and was tired from the drive. They also had some more accounting reports that they needed to straighten out before the next meeting and he needed some rest first.

Glad that he had his sunglasses to hide his bloodshot eyes from Reno, Rude pushed a stack of reports onto Reno. “Take care of this,” he said and headed for the bedrooms.

“No, man, just listen! It’s Tifa Lockhart, yo.” Reno followed him and stood between him and the bedroom door, still holding onto the stack of paperwork. “Pres, told me to keep an eye on her. I thought it was just him being paranoid but then he got super pissed when I got no dirt on her—”

“Rufus is interested in Miss Lockhart,” Rude interrupted.

“And then it was so scary when he— What?” Reno’s shoulder gesticulation balked and he looked up at Rude with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“He likes her,” Rude repeated. He just wanted to get this conversation out of the way and to his bed.

When it seemed that Reno’s slack jaw wasn’t going to move again anytime soon (or any other body part for that matter), he guided his shell-shocked partner aside and went into the bedroom.

  1. **Where were you when we needed you!?**



“Junon.” Rude deadpanned over the video call with folded arms.

Elena wasn’t sure if Rude was being snappy when he’d answered the rhetorical question. It didn’t sound like him, but he had just been dragged out of bed by Reno to call them.

Even through a blurry video, she could tell that his sunglasses were doing a poor job of hiding his frown, and everything in the way he had his arms folded said he wasn’t happy about this situation.

  1. **Person of interest? (2)**



Reno leaned against his desk and sighed to himself as he watched Rude talk to Elena and Tseng on the screen. The talk about the shocking revelation regarding Rufus and Reno’s favorite bartender.

It was still out of nowhere and ludicrous, but as fate would have it, Tifa Lockhart was officially a person of interest. Albeit their boss’s interest alone. Man, that was one fine piece of ass he couldn’t make passes at anymore.

But what was this stupid lightness in his chest? He just had to snicker at how ridiculously relieved he was. Reno could focus on how the Pres never let him have the good stuff, but on the bright side, he still had a bar-slash-second-family to drown his sorrow at. As long as they weren’t going to be enemies, Rufus and Lockhart was something he could get behind, and he guessed he’d be fine with just drinking at the Seventh Heaven.

  1. **Pride (2)**



“Can you identify when was it that his interest started?” Tseng asked.

Somehow, Elena sensed he was more concerned about how he hadn’t noticed Rufus’s…condition…rather than the condition itself.

  1. **To spark Rufus Shinra’s interest**



Rude seemed to give it a little bit of thought. “WRO’s party in Nibelheim.”

“Over a year ago?” Elena gasped.

“Old news.”

“It’s only old news to you cuz he takes you to those meetings, yo” Reno came up behind Rude and leant his arm on Rude’s shoulder. “Pres hasn’t made a squeak ‘bout Lockhart elsewhere. Damn, he hid it real good.” He chuckled with a shake of his head. “And why haven’t _you_ told us sooner, Rude? Coulda saved me and Tseng the run-around.”

“Not my place to discuss.”

“I guess…”

“Wasn’t that the night he got back early, soaking wet?” Tseng said with a light frown.

Rude nodded. “Shoulder-thrown into the mansion’s fountain.”

Reno whistled.

  1. **Unexpectedly devoted**



“Damn, it’s still unbelievable he’d been crushing on Lockhart for over a year.”

“Is it though? He is Rufus. He’s good at hiding his personal aff— Reno, stop playing with that folder! You’ve dropped it five times already!”

“I’m sure it’ll survive a dozen more.”

Elena resisted the urge to just end the call right there. Rude had already excused himself to bed and Tseng had left not too long ago after getting all the information he needed regarding Healen’s and Junon’s statuses. That left her with no one to keep Reno in check.

“Rufus is Rufus, but still,” Reno started to balance the corner of the folder on his fingertip, but soon dropped it again. “That’s some serious fixation right there, yo. He barely sees her except for the nights WRO hosts something, and that’s what?” Reno counted his fingers. “Four incidents in total counting the Nibelheim… _hem_ , touchdown. Goodness, I’d have moved onto the next sweetheart in half the time it took him to get a second encounter.”

Elena made sure Reno saw her look of disdain, but he just waved a hand and continued. “According to Rude, she’s been less than cordial to the Pres, too. I wouldn’t have stuck around for that.”

Reno had a point. Considering the kind of man Rufus Shinra was, it was actually very surprising he’d hold onto unrequited feelings for so long.

  1. **We are safe**



If there was one thing they all respected Rufus for, it was that he knew how to prioritize.

Keeping that in mind, it made perfect sense that Rufus hadn’t attempted to pursue Tifa Lockhart this whole time because Shin·Ra was still recovering from Deepground. They’d been busy, and Rufus had known better that to start what would promise to be _very_ time-consuming considering the bartender’s distaste for him.

It also made perfect sense to assume that, after narrowly avoiding the depression in Junon and safely establishing Shin·Ra in Edge, Rufus had started to pay attention to Tifa _because_ he’d deemed the company to be in safe enough water to start…romancing?

Elena frowned, a finger to her temple. Was he even trying to romance Tifa?

  1. **Wait, so the point of spying is…? (or, Unexpectedly alarming)**



To court Tifa Lockhart? That made no sense. In what universe would having other people spy on your love interest be productive to the relationship, no matter how non-existent?

Elena slowed her fingers on the keyboard, looking at the information she was typing out on the computer. Because Rufus had been so vague with the mission, both Tseng and she had used the instruction he’d told Reno as their own. _Plans and interactions of Tifa Lockhart._

Wasn’t this just stalking your love interest!?

  1. **Boss?? (2)**



She couldn’t believe Rufus Shinra would be the type to stalk the person he liked. That didn’t sound like him at all. But then nursing an unrequited love didn’t sound like him either.

Elena had also never seen Rufus court anybody. Women naturally surrounded him, and he didn’t bother pursuing those who didn’t. Could it be that he actually didn’t know the proper procedures of courtship?

She had a sudden flashback to middle school, where a boy would ask his friends to ask the girl he liked if she liked him, and shuddered. Goddess, this was outrageous.

  1. **Are you just………shy?**



“President, here is the report for yesterday.” Elena handed her fourth report to Rufus, careful to mask her hesitation. After the revelation last night, her mission had become an entirely new kind of dread.

“Thank you, Elena,” Rufus didn’t look up from the laptop, “Please put it over there.”

She paused. Come to think of it, she’d never seen him actually reading a report. By the next time she saw her report again, it would already be a pile of shredded paper.

“Was there anything significant?” And there was that question, too. What did he mean by ‘significant?’

“Aside from the fact that Vincent Valentine caught me (oh, the shame!), sir, there wasn’t much…” Elena trailed off, thoughts racing. Wait. Waitwaitwaitwait. If Rufus was really asking the Turks to stal— _hem…‘_ keep an eye on’ Tifa because he was interested in her rather than trying to find dirt on her, then shouldn’t Elena be giving him information like… “But Tifa Lockhart did seem a lot more energetic than usual, which is a given considering she was surrounded by her friends.”

“I see,” Rufus nodded and returned to his work. “From now on an oral report will suffice. Everything regarding this mission will be off the record.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may leave.”

  1. **Between the lines**



Elena wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but Rufus’s reaction was rather…flat. Was that not what he wanted to hear?

“Oh, and Elena?” he called just as she was about to leave through the door.

“Yes, President?”

“You’re doing well. Keep it up.”

Elena would catch herself grinning that whole day, earning strange looks from passers-by and customers around Seventh Heaven.

  1. **Resolution**



It had become apparent to her that Rufus only wanted updates of Tifa’s life, not an uncovering of a sinister coup. Why he continued on being cryptic about the mission remained unanswered, but Elena supposed that was just Rufus being Rufus.

As for her mission, there was no longer a need to sneak around. To act the part of a Turk on vacation, she shed her uniform and started coming to the bar like any other person would. Although she still thought this was a terrible way to woo Tifa, Elena decided she was going to aid her boss’s rather clumsy attempt for now and perhaps give him some pointers regarding a woman’s heart along the way.

**End**

**.**

**.**

At least, Elena thought it had ended.

She _wished_ it had ended there.

  1. **Around the Seventh Heaven**



The Seventh Heaven bar was on alert.

As Elena sat in her booth, poking the yellow olive in her martini with a toothpick, she could feel an intense gaze scorching the side of her face. She kept her head down and didn’t dare return it, but out of her peripheral vision, she would catch instances of blue mako eyes steadily watching her as a wolf would a trespasser of its territory.

Cloud Strife was not amused.

.

“Girly,” Cid Highwind took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out through the corner of his mouth as he trapped Elena in front of the bar together with Barret Wallace. “The fuck does that shitty brat wants with the lass?”

“Ain’t nothin’ good fo’ sure.” Barret crossed his arms, scraping the edge of his massive gun arm against the wall next to her.

Elena could only squeak out an intelligible reply, hands to her chest and head between her shoulders.

.

“I’d like to politely ask that you leave the premise, Miss Elena,” Reeve Tuesti, immaculate in his dark blue vest, had sat down next to her at the counter. “It’s not every day that I get to catch up with my friends, and I don’t appreciate an audience when I do so.”

.

At the end of the first week of the mission, Elena was back at her table in the HQ, typing up a contract for Corel, and she couldn’t help but sigh. It wasn’t just the people she could name, even the faceless customers who whispered among each other were like that.

They really, _really_ didn’t like Shin·Ra there.

  1. **What of the target herself?**



Tifa lay on her bed with an arm over her eyes. Her heart was heavy, and the familiar feeling of unrest gnawed at places inside her chest that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. For once, the thought of Cloud wasn’t the thing that hurt the most.

This time of year was always gloomy for her, with the death anniversary of her father coming up, but some years the season just hit her harder than others.

It was hitting her pretty hard this year.

She wished Cloud was around to lend a shoulder to cry on, but he was busy delivering a package for Reeve to Corel. It was fine. Cloud was going to be there for the actual day, and that was enough. It was supposed to be.

 _It’s enough,_ she told herself, _Don’t be selfish, Tifa. We need the money._

But her eyes still prickled behind her arm, and she felt a pout tugging down at the corners of her mouth. Through the noisiness of her mind, she could hear the shuffling of shoes outside her door. The kids were worried about her, but she didn’t want them to see her like this. Thank Gaia Shelke was there.

  1. **Tears**



Tifa turned around and buried her face into her pillow. And she remained still, hoping she could choke away the weakness like that. It was so silly. Her father was gone for nearly a decade now.

But then she remembered her childhood, the warmth of large hands on her head and at her back, comforting her through the death of her mother. His callused fingers gripping her tiny ones, leading her through the mountainous paths, pointing at intimidating terrains to show her their quirks and secrets. The kind smile he taught her to have.

She sniffed. Ugh, so stupid. Those weren’t things to cry about! She was going to look horrible tonight. Should she even open the bar?

_“I’d say you’re quite beautiful when you cry.”_

Tifa froze at the memory. She slowly sat up and pushed a tangled curtain of hair away from her face. She sniffed again, wiping at the drying streaks on her face, and headed for the bathroom to wash up.

Twisted bastard.

  1. **Around the Seventh Heaven (2)**



Elena stood across the street from the bar after its closing, looking up at the window on the second floor, which she knew belonged to Tifa Lockhart’s room. The bartender had mostly stayed in the kitchen tonight, and the glimpses Elena did catch of the woman hadn’t looked good.

“Oh, not a face I expected to see around here.” In the darkness of the night, she saw a swaying flame then finally noticed the large red beast that had skulked up next to her. Red XIII had only arrived this evening to visit Tifa. “Have you come as a friend or a foe?”

Elena remained silent as she looked into one reflective golden eye. She knew she wasn’t here as a foe. But could she be considered as a friend?

“I see you like late night strolls, too,” she gently denied having come for Tifa.

“Ah, yes, there aren’t quite as many humans on my path.”

  1. **Boundaries**



“I see,” Rufus said simply the next morning that Elena reported to him in his office. He made no effort to move from the couch, with legs propped on the white ottoman and fingers knitted over his stomach.

Elena didn’t know if she was just projecting her own thoughts onto his blank slate of an expression, but she dared think he looked worried. Just a little bit.

“There’s no need to watch her today,” he decided. “You can have a day off.”

“Yes, sir.”

  1. **Boundaries (2)**



Though the President said there was no need, Elena was still worried and decided to drop by the Seventh Heaven anyway. Perhaps it was unprofessional of her, but she _was_ off duty.

“Go back to Shin·Ra, Turk.” Vincent Valentine hadn’t been hostile, but he’d blocked Elena not too far off from the entrance. And she’d listened to him. It was the death anniversary of Tifa’s father and all of her friends had come to pay their respect. There was no place for a Turk there tonight.

Such a morose custom the Nibelheim folks had.

  1. **Around the Seventh Heaven (3)**



It was unusually hot for an autumn day, and Elena would kill for a tree shade. But tree shades were almost non-existent in Edge (Shin·Ra and WRO were going to get to that soon), and the bar wasn’t going to be open until much later; so she was stuck dallying around in the stuffy shadow of the empty house nearby.

“Miss Elena, here you go!”

Elena wiped the sweat rolling down her cheek and turned to the bright smiling countenance that could have rivalled the afternoon sun currently shining above Edge.

“Thank you so much, Marlene!”

After Marlene Wallace had returned from school, the little girl had offered to bring her a bottle of juice from the fridge. It was a lovely gesture, although Elena actually wished the girl had offered to bring her _to_ the fridge so that she could climb inside and hide there until winter decided to come.

Next to the little girl, Denzel Wallace cast her a cautious look from behind his brown bangs but said nothing. The boy, Elena sensed, was still deciding whether to like her or not. Distrustful was one way to put it, smart was another.

“Don’t drink too quickly,” Denzel said suddenly, and something in his manner as he did so reminded her of a watered-down version of Cloud Strife’s aloof attitude. At her surprised look, he added. “It’s not good to drink cold stuff in the heat, Tifa said.”

Elena resisted a giggle and smiled at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  1. **In Corel**



“Hey Tseng, what’s with Shin·Ra’s funny business around Teef’s bar?”

Tseng stared at Yuffie Kisaragi from across the old coffee table in WRO’s Corel HQ.

“Ya can tell me, Tseng,” she grinned, wiggling an eyebrow. The young girl had her legs folded on the worn brown couch and was leaning toward him with eagerness in her eyes. “C’mon, Tseng. Pretty please?”

“There is no business, Miss Kisaragi. What Elena does on her days off doesn’t concern Shin·Ra.”

“C’mon, one Wutain to another?”

“Miss Kisaragi, please, about the oil reservoirs…” he said with waning determination. A half-hour meeting regarding Shin·Ra’s involvement in Corel had been stretched into one hour, and still there was no sign of an end.

“Oh, all right…” Yuffie sat back in her seat, and they continued to discuss, thankfully with no more digression until the contract was signed.

As Tseng got up to leave, Yuffie shuffled close to him, face inches from his, and whispered, “If Rufus is planning something evil and you’re bound by contract, blink once.”

Tseng blinked.

  1. **For the love of…**



Coming back from North Corel, Tseng found that the heatwave they were experiencing in Edge was still quite heavenly compared to the harsh desert climate. The latter had been especially unkind to him considering the Turks’ uniform, and, as the helicopter took off the landing pad in Corel, a small part of his mind had wondered if they should have the Turks assigned there wear something more accommodating.

However, as comfortable as he was standing in Rufus’s air-conditioned office, Tseng couldn’t help the tiredness mixed in with his voice as he reported, “Also, WRO might try to interfere with the matter concerning Tifa Lockhart now.”

Sitting at his desk, Rufus glanced up from the Corel mine contract.

“What happened?”

Tseng held back a sigh.

  1. **Laughter**



It wasn’t that the little antic was any clever prank, or even an original one. But someone who would have the gall to mess with Tseng of the Turks, and even drive said Turk to the point of resignation, deserved credits long overdue.

Rufus gave a final chortle and wiped the corner of his eye, shooting Tseng an apologetic look. Not that the Turk needed the apology, standing there with a faint smirk of his own. Rufus wasn’t concerned because there was little the self-righteous WRO could do regarding this matter, but, ah, Yuffie Kisaragi. Such an amusing creature.

How regretful. If the young princess of Wutai wasn’t so closely aligned with WRO he would have recruited her, then put her in Edge indefinitely.

It would be nice if a certain barkeep could laugh more.

  1. **The chase**



“I must say, Rufus, while you are free to fancy whomever, what exactly _are_ you trying to do?” Tseng’s question had Rufus pausing in the middle of turning a contract page. He’d known the cat was out of the bag with the Turks for a while now, but he hadn’t counted on Tseng to point at it.

“Ah, you know, some harmless fun.”

“Am I to believe you define a possible future of bruising and broken bones as harmless?” Tseng had his arm clasped behind his back, that inquisitive smile on his mouth.

“Parts of a process, Tseng. You make her sound like such a violent woman, but it’s just her way of showing love.”

“You meant hate.”

“Have I said something else?” Rufus smirked and the chuckle Tseng offered in return sounded humourless.

  1. **A broken status quo**



Whatever feelings Rufus had for Tifa Lockhart, they had survived over a year on crumbs worth of interaction with the bartender. An impressive feat, indeed, but knowing Rufus Shinra, he probably hadn’t been nursing a lonely heart and feeling sorry for himself. Far from it. This was a man who would only ever maintain the status quo if he was satisfied with it.

So the question that should be asked here was why _now?_ Why had he chosen to disturb the status quo?

Elena had assumed it was because Shin·Ra was starting to do well, but Tseng thought that was only a small part of the reason. Something had to have triggered this the last time Rufus had seen Tifa, especially when that meeting had occurred not too long ago at the WRO party and right before this whole chain of events had gone into motion.

Especially when Rufus had returned that night with a bruised cheek he’d refused materia treatment for.

And Tseng worried.

Because, for all his talents and wiles, Rufus also tended to be impulsive.

And Rufus was surely acting on impulse regarding Tifa Lockhart.

  1. **Concern of an aide (or, Pride (3))**



“I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, Rufus, but might I advise that you don’t play with her heart?”

Tseng could see the casual smile on Rufus’s face slipping into the guarded smirk he often resorted to in order to mask his fluster. Fluster that would very soon turn into annoyance. Ah, there it was.

Though Rufus maintained an open body language, he held Tseng’s gaze in a confrontational manner, challenging Tseng to overstep the line. Tseng knew better than that. He’d said enough. His words had done their job, and now he needed to back off.

“I didn’t know you cared for Miss Lockhart so. Should Elena and I be worried?”

“No, sir,” Tseng tucked his chin closer to his chest. “I simply would like to still have a President to serve after this is over.”

Rufus scoffed, in slightly better humour. “I’m in love, Tseng, not a war.”

But Tseng wasn’t sure Rufus drew a distinction between the two. Regardless, he chose to let the matter rest for now. “So I see.” The President had decided, and as his Turk, Tseng could only oblige.

  1. **Around the Seventh Heaven (4)**



Shelke Rui was one of the few people that didn’t act hostile to Elena, with the others being Vincent Valentine, the children and, shockingly enough, Tifa Lockhart (though the woman simply ignored her aside from completing her drink orders).

On the second Thursday night, business at the bar was going slow, and Tifa had gone to check up on stocks at the back. That left Elena with Shelke and the odd clusters of customers who occasionally erupted into a hybrid of laughter and heated debates. As Shelke moved around to clean the counter, she asked, “What kind of man is Rufus Shinra that the Turks follow him?”

Elena tore her eyes from a customer she didn’t recognize drinking alone in the corner to meet Shelke’s mako ones, which were patiently waiting for an answer. She knew Shelke wouldn’t hold it against her if she remained silent, but the larger part of her wanted to answer even though she didn’t quite have an answer ready.

“Well,” Elena took a sip of her bitter cocktail and placed the dainty glass down on the counter, twirling the stem between her fingers. “I can’t say for others, but for me, it’s how he always know…always so sure.”

That was why it had worried her to see him hesitate on this mission.

She respected him. Not dissimilarly to the way she respected Tseng.

  1. **Actually, can I take that back?**



Friday came, and Elena was reporting to Rufus, who lounged crossed-legged in the armchair in his office when Cloud Strife arrived (more of a _barged in_ manner) as WRO’s messenger. Apparently, WRO had issued a formal request, signed by Reeve Tuesti himself, demanding that Shin·Ra ceased its attempts at prying into WRO’s volunteers’ private life.

Still in his seat and holding the WRO document in one hand, Rufus glanced over it and smirked. An unrestrained, full-blown smirk completed with the short escape of air that indicated a silent but derisive snort.

He was having the time of his life messing with people, wasn’t he?

  1. **Animus**



It was just the man he wanted to see.

When Cloud Strife had pushed his way in before the escorting Turk could announce their arrival, Rufus had been caught off guard, and by the time he recollected himself it was already late to level the playing field. Cloud and his short stature seemed to tower over Rufus, with only a small coffee table separating them.

Though having to look up was as a disadvantage, the last thing he wanted to do was let his opponent see a hasty attempt to regain equal footing. Besides, spend enough time in a wheelchair and you’d find that, with the right attitude, sitting was a powerful position to assume.

So Rufus didn’t bother getting up, just as Cloud hadn’t bothered with the greeting and simply proceeded to shove a legal document in his face.

  1. **Confrontation**



“As I keep telling WRO, Shin·Ra has no interest in Miss Lockhart,” Rufus said, not forgetting to concoct a helpless sigh to accompany his words, as he placed the WRO letter down on the coffee table. It hadn’t taken much acting because, as entertaining as this was, he had not intended to get so many people looking into his personal affairs.

“Then tell your Turks to stop bothering Tifa, Rufus.”

“If this is about Elena’s visits to Seventh Heaven, once again, Cloud,” he punctuated his voice with frustration to complete the charade, “I do not control where my employees go on their days off.”

“She’s standing right here,” Cloud gestured with a jerk of his chin. “Doesn’t look very off duty to me.”

“She’s not at this moment, no,” Rufus conceded, “Elena here had just returned from her vacation and is currently requesting more time off. I, too, am at a loss at what to do with this girl.” Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Elena giving him a look.

“Fire her?” Cloud glared at Elena, to which she responded with an exasperated, “Hey!”

The laugh that left his lips didn’t need any artificial effort as he rested his face against his knuckles. “And here I’m the one they call cold-blooded. We could really use someone like you—”

“I’m not here to play games.”

“—in one of the branches. How about coming to work for Shin·Ra—”

“Not interested.”

“—We pay our executives better than WRO—”

“Rufus Shinra!” Cloud folded his arms, a movement that, according to Rufus’s observation, meant the other man was stopping himself from getting physical. Immediately, Elena and another female Turk, who’d escorted Cloud here, inched closer to Rufus’s side. The two women were visibly on edge because, even without the oversized swords, Cloud still posed a very real threat.

“Go have your fun elsewhere.”

“I promise, Cloud, I derive no pleasure from our recent line of conversations.”

“Leave it to Rufus Shinra to smirk in the face of woe.”

“I can’t say I’m ashamed of my resilience.”

“You will stop bothering us.”

“You will understand,” Rufus kept his voice mellow and tapped the letter on the table, “The action of one person does not speak for his or her organization. Shin·Ra has not transgressed in the manner stated in this document.”

“You mean like how Shin·Ra never destroyed Nibelheim?”

He chuckled and sat back in the armchair. “Is that your best accusation, Cloud? Dragging up the past?”

  1. **This kind of man…**



As the verbal tennis quieted down to a hush, Elena felt lightheaded. Rufus had looked so embittered when he gave that wry chuckle, and his posture as he leant back seemed to exude a sort of tired arrogance, a frustration at the general mistrust for Shin·Ra and himself.

With him looking like that and the sincerity in his voice, it was easy to forget that he was, indefensibly, guilty on all charges. He was lying through his teeth regarding Tifa (although he’d probably say he wasn’t because _Shin·Ra_ truly wasn’t interested in the bartender) and had practically thrown Elena under the bus, _twice!_

Granted, Cloud, in his irritation and hot-headedness, had argued himself into a corner, but it was terrifying how Rufus had claimed the moral high ground in a conversation where Cloud was in the right.

Elena was working for such a person.

  1. **Declaration of intent**



With all the poise of a man carrying the weight of the world, the President pushed off the armchair and rose to his feet, straightening out his jacket.

“I will respect WRO’s request as good faith. Please tell Reeve I look forward to our cooperation in Corel. However, do know that I’ve also given Elena the extra vacation time she wanted, and what she does during her time off is entirely up to her.”

Cloud looked like he’d just bitten into something sour, Rufus smirked, and blue gazes clashed silently.

“How very generous.”

“Not at all.” As Elena was busy gauging Cloud’s expression and the hard clench his jaw was set in, Rufus continued on. “You must understand, Cloud, it’s only good business to take care of my employees. And Elena has proven herself indispensable to Shin·Ra.”

There was a delay before she realized what had just been said and stole a glance at the President. It-It was a lie, right?

Cloud waved a dismissive hand and headed for the door. “Stay away from Tifa.” The warning was for everyone in the room, but Elena had more than a feeling it was directed mainly at Rufus.

“Give Miss Lockhart my regards for me,” Rufus said, stopping the swordsman at the threshold, “All right? Elena?” He pronounced her name lazily with his smirk, and she just wanted to run for cover from the glare Cloud set on her the following moment.

  1. **Sleepless**



_Stupid, it’s a lie. Obviously a lie! Stop it! Stop. Thinking. About. It._

Elena rolled onto her back and draped an arm over her forehead, counting the ticking of the clock that was invisible in the darkness. She was tired. But she felt like tossing and turning. She felt like kicking the blanket off the bed and pace around the room at the risk of tripping over the baggy pyjamas trousers she had on. Damn Rufus and the things he said that always walked that fine line between truth and lie.

“Elena,” a strong arm slipped underneath her and pulled her to bare chest, “Rufus wasn’t lying. You are indispensable. Now go to sleep.” His voice was a soft, groggy mutter, rumbling against her hand, and a few stray strands of black hair fell to her cheeks.

“B-but Tseng…”

“Stop thinking about another man in my bed.” He cupped her face with his other hand and placed a quick kiss on her temple. “Sleep.”

And as his breathing evened out, Elena remained still as a statue, face pressed into the crook of his neck by a firm but gentle hand behind her neck, blushing furiously.

Now she really couldn’t sleep.

  1. **So here I go again…**



By Monday afternoon, Elena took some _actual_ time off to go get coffee and a nice break from her…‘vacation.’

She was sitting at an outdoor table of the coffee shop in a busier section of Edge, enjoying her hot drink and a slice of creamy, _creamy_ cheesecake when her eyes caught a red gaze from across the street.

  1. **This is too sudden**



“Where is he?” Tifa Lockhart asked with arms crossed and a dark look on her otherwise beautiful face, the fingers drumming on her biceps spoke volumes of her impatience.

Elena just stared up at Tifa, in the middle of tilting the cup of cappuccino against her mouth. Surprised would be an understatement, as this was the first time Elena had been confronted by Tifa herself in the entire length of the mission.

And considering that Tifa was still in a bad mood after having just argued with Cloud about the line at which spending time in a church (Cloud had been very insistent that the debate was about _a_ church and not _the_ church) ceased to be healthy and soothing and crossed over to self-tormenting, Elena knew Tifa was the last person anyone would want to offend right now.

So excuse her if she was a little freaked out. “I-I’m not following you right now, I swear Tifa! Rufus gave me a day off a-and…” she faltered, her own words running through her mind again, “n-not that I’d follow you if it wasn’t my day off. Shin·Ra isn’t interested in you in the slightest!” She was just digging her grave deeper and deeper, wasn’t she?

“You’ve already made that quite clear with my friends, Elena, and no, I don’t believe you, either.”

Guh, the _one_ time she _really_ wasn’t following the target.

“Where is Shinra?”

Elena stared and eventually managed a very intelligent “What?”

“Rufus Shinra. He said to ask a Turk for his whereabouts whenever I liked.” Elena’s eyes went wide at this. “Last time I checked, you’re a Turk.”

When had Rufus said that!?

  1. **Good job, Elena**



Elena was still chasing after Tifa Lockhart down the streets when she ended the call to HQ, dread bubbling in her stomach as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place in her mind.

_‘Good job!?’ President, there’s a fuming martial artist heading there for your life!_

She had, at last, understood the true nature of her mission and wished that she was in Rufus’s office to shake him out of his-his… _idiocy_.

It wasn’t that Rufus wanted to stalk Tifa for information or some silly updates on her life. He wasn’t a clumsy love-stricken fool. Good Gaia, no. He knew what he was doing. He simply wanted to _annoy_ Tifa (and oh how he’d succeeded!) with the existence of a spy and prompt her to come see him in some twisted form of mind game. Worse yet, this feat depended on the spy _failing_ at discretion.

That was why Reno and Tseng had ‘failed’ the mission.

That was why she’d ‘succeeded.’

And just now she’d finished the mission with flying colours.

So why wasn’t she even a little bit happy?

  1. **Common sense**



“Don’t you dare stop me, Elena,” Tifa warned dangerously over her shoulder just as Elena caught up with her.

Elena had no intention to. She had a thing called common sense that told her not to engage angry beasts. She just hoped her President also had the same thing.

  1. **He doesn’t have it**



The HQ, thanks to Elena’s phone call, was prepared.

No security guard stood in their way as Tifa burst in through the front door, kicking open heavy mahogany like it was cheap plastic. Employees clambered to part way as the bartender strutted through the front hall with the deadly grace of a black panther, long dark hair swaying and measured strides that belied her temper.

The door to Rufus’s office was also opened none-too-kindly, doorknob hitting the drywall with a slam so loud that Elena didn’t doubt a crater had just been carved into the plaster.

At the far end of the room, Rude and Reno looked over their shoulders, shock and surprise all over their faces. Behind them was Tseng, who stood next to Rufus.

Their boss himself sat in his chair in all his pretentious glory, paperwork in hand as though he’d been working when he was so rudely interrupted. But, oh Gaia, the smirk on his lips, it sparkled with a rare childish glee that told her he was going to have fun at everyone’s expense, not excluding his own.

Elena had given Rufus too much credit. He wasn’t a middle schooler. This was _elementary school,_ where boys teased the girls they liked.

  1. **The end (of the beginning)**



“Shinra,” Tifa could have tamed Gongaga wolves with her glare alone.

“Miss Lockhart,” Rufus slowly got to his feet, setting down his ‘work.’ “What have I done to deserve this honour?”

Elena resisted the urge to slap her forehead in response to the amount of smugness that was on Rufus’s face. He looked short of gloating about his victory to a game whose rules were known to him alone.

Rude (who, for some reason, had a white bandage across the bridge of his nose instead of his sunglasses) and Reno seemed utterly confused and hesitated between guarding Rufus and getting out of the way. They had probably just arrived from Healen. Meanwhile, Tseng stood vigilant by Rufus’s side, his entire body language spoke of his nervousness about their dim chance at stopping Tifa should her fuses blow.

“You are not seriously asking me that.” Tifa pushed past Reno and Rude.

Rufus chuckled, brushing his bangs back. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but you did say you haven’t got time for me the last time we parted.”

Was that was what this whole mess was about!? Elena felt lightheaded all over again. And the horrifying part was that…this was only the beginning, the _first_ of Rufus’s wooing attempts. If you could call it ‘wooing.’

The Turks in the room met eyes for a brief second, and it was enough for all four to see they were thinking the same thing, with varying degrees of grief.

They were about to get very, very busy.


	2. The Who

**1\. Trust**

"Shinra." The syllables were flat, impersonal. Lips that had formed them curved down unhappily.

Her eyes flared with beautiful temper as she marched up to his desk, and he found that his smile needn't be forced. It was ridiculous how much Rufus was enjoying this – he reflected, amused; his more rational side agreed in reproach. That little portion of his brain was responsible for self-preservation, and it whispered of danger, chided him for foolhardiness.

Cheap instinct, that one.

She could kill him with her bare hands, but Tifa Lockhart had more than a firm grasp over herself. She wouldn't lay a finger on him. Hated him that much.

So he rose to his full height, made no effort to hide the smirk he knew she despised, and selected words that would best infuriate her before this meeting came to its end.

**2\. Mistrust**

"I see." He turned to his Turk. "Elena, please refrain from visiting Miss Lockhart from now on."

"…Yes, President. Then, please excuse me." Elena looked like she'd given up, following Rude and Reno out the door.

It almost seemed like a trick. Why 'almost' was beyond Tifa, considering that the man before her stood for everything false and dishonest. If hard pressed, Tifa would say that it was because this felt too easy. But that wasn't quite right because he _hadn't_ made it easy.

He'd pulled her into his pace, danced around the subject, talked in cryptic riddles, quoted some semi-tangent philosophy, used her words against her, and made her regret ever opening her mouth to retort. But when it finally came down to the heart of the problem, he'd relented too quickly.

**3\. Insufferable**

She struggled not to let confusion disrupt her frown, asking again to make sure he wouldn't be sending Turks after her anymore. He just chuckled and shook his head, said he'd never had a reason to and would not start now. "You can rest assured, Miss Lockhart."

Tifa was far from satisfied. He'd apologized, but couldn't have meant much of it when he hadn't even admitted to being responsible for this whole mess. But what was she expecting? That was the kind of man he was. A liar.

The only reason she could trust his words now was because she knew he was done making his point. He'd won a game she never agreed to play with him. Now he was just rubbing it in her face, none-so-subtly.

"Was there anything else, Miss Lockhart?"

"No."

"Then, I thank you for taking the time to come see me despite your schedule." He wasn't even hiding the smug in that smirk.

**4\. One step ahead**

His offer to show her out was interrupted with flat refusal. He'd seen that coming.

Rufus held her guarded gaze, felt his smirk widen, before tearing his eyes away. "Tseng, please see to it that Miss Lockhart returns safely."

She protested, like he knew she would. Tseng just looked relieved behind his blank mask as he nodded. Was she really deemed to have so little control, or was Rufus not trusted to keep her marginally gruntled?

"I do not need another Turk following me around." Her arms folded in a manner much like Cloud's. Which one of them got the habit from the other, he wondered.

"Please humour me, Miss Lockhart. It's unacceptable to have a guest walk back such a length. More so if she's been forced to visit in complaint about employee conduct." She opened her mouth to protest again, but he was quicker. "This is the last time my Turks will bother you. I promise."

**5\. Run**

Would that all his schemes went just as smoothly.

She replied with words he'd already anticipated, frowned where he'd intended her to and whipped around to leave just the way he wanted. Everything was as expected. Such a predictable prey.

Always in such a hurry to leave, that girl, and bidding farewell without meaning it.

Rufus watched her follow Tseng out until her back disappeared behind closed doors. Finally, he brought himself to sit, breathed, and, for a brief moment, wondered if he'd have given better chase if it hadn't been for half the pain in his bones.

**6\. The aftermath**

The dark sedan barely made a hum as it tore off from the busy avenue traffic and headed into a less frequented street. In the back seat, Tifa was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she was letting herself be chauffeured home by a Shin·Ra car.

She wasn't sure what was bothering her so much, but it kept eating at her, causing her to squirm uncomfortably on expensive leather seats.

Then the familiar corner of her neighborhood came into view, and everything suddenly became clear. She found herself praying to Minerva that none of her friends was in the vicinity to see her getting off the car.

**7\. A seasonal thing**

It occurred to Tifa that some internalized normality was being violated— _had been_ violated. Shin·Ra wasn't supposed to be relevant in her life anymore, and _Shinra…_ his existence was supposed to be confined within the duration of WRO events.

Like how mog swarms could only be found around spring when the Kupo nuts dropped from their trees. Or how Saintess Klas was a figure reserved for Winter's Mass.

Though he was probably more like one of those creepy squash lanterns people put up for All Soul's Day.

**7\. Broken rules**

Granted, Tifa didn't know much about him. He was a bully, a pompous jerk who liked to hear himself talk. Disgustingly well-groomed. Stood too tall with his bad leg. Head held too high to be repentant.

In her eyes, he broke every rule to decency there was, but at the very least, she'd expected him to respect that unspoken one between them.

There was no 'them' outside of the WRO parties.


	3. The What

  1. **Under the skin**



The slap was loud, rang out in the silence of the night. Tifa backed away from him, unsteady, realizing what she’d just done. Shinra kept his head turned and thumbed the corner of his mouth.

“I suppose I deserved that.”

He did. That didn’t mean she should have. She was better than that, knew better than to let him get to her.

He seemed to take a moment to collect himself. Then caught her gaze. “I’m guessing Strife receives the same treatment quite often?”

That threw her off balance. “What? No.”

“No?” He appeared surprised. Superficially so. “After all he’s done?”

“Cloud has never done anything.”

“So you’ve never struck him before?”

“ _No.”_ Her eyes narrowed, arms folded.

“I see.” He rubbed his cheek, the one she’d slapped, thoughtful, and eventually smirked. “I feel special.”

She swore she heard something pop.

  1. **Isolation**



Deep breaths. Of all the people to see her in this state.

He just sat there on one of the wicker chairs, and she resented him for his thick skin. Others would have left by now. She stuck to one end of the brick parapet, trying to put as much space as physically possible between them.

The balcony was tucked to the side of the building, connected to the ballroom by a curved corridor. Overlooking the charming town of Kalm, it had been the perfect spot to hide from prying eyes and wallow in self-pity. Now she couldn’t wait to return inside. And she would.

As soon as she’d calmed down enough to pass her puffy eyes off a nasty allergy.

  1. **Apologetic**



She turned to head back inside.

“Until next time then, Miss Lockhart,” he said after her. He always said that. And she always ignored him. Not tonight.

“There’s no next time, Shinra,” she told him. She’d never liked dealing with him, and this was a perfect chance to put an end to these ‘coincidences.’ “I’m sick of having to listen to your condescension every time."

“Oh.” He looked mildly regretful, sitting up straight in his seat. “I…had no idea you felt that way. I apologize for the lack of variety.”

  1. **Out of the frying pan**



“Perhaps you’ll consider giving me another chance to try something different next time?”

Tifa took a deep breath. “No.”

“That is a shame.” Not a hint of chagrin in his tone. It was still the same smirk he always wore, if not more ghastly under the moonlight. “Very well, I’ll respect that. Pray that you’ll have a more enjoyable time inside.”

It galled her that he was getting a kick out of messing with her even now. But at least this was the end of that. She gave him a cautious look and tried to make her exit not look like the escape that it was.

  1. **And into the fire**



Rufus Shinra was leaving early, as he always did on these occasions. Though she suspected this time it had more to do with his steadily swelling cheek. It was a silent departure, almost surreptitious, without any fanfare or sendoff. He wouldn’t be missed, either. Not many people bothered giving him face anymore.

Their eyes met from across the large hall.

He whispered something into Rude’s ear and watched the Turk head out before coming over, cutting through the socializing crowd as it parted for him. Her first instinct had been to run the other way, damn the shaky high heels and tight dress.

But then her petty little pride surged to her doom, and she stood her ground.

  1. **Open invitation**



“Miss Lockhart.” His voice was irritatingly quiet among all the shallow pleasantries echoing inside the ballroom. He didn’t face her, paying attention instead to the punch bowl next to her.

“Should you wish to find me, please don’t hesitate to inquire any of my Turks.”

“I assure you I will be doing nothing of the sort.” She didn’t face him, either, kept her gaze strictly forward. “My time is better spent elsewhere.”

She thought she heard him chuckle under his breath. “Goodnight, Miss Lockhart.” And he left.

  1. **In retrospect**



On some level, Tifa had already figured he would be transgressing into her life to make his point; and when Vincent came back saying Shin·Ra was watching her, it was all the confirmation she needed. _Real subtle_ , she’d thought.

She hadn’t expected he would be so flagrant, but what did she know about him anyway? Her resolve was unchanged. She wasn’t going to give him the time of her day, and knowing his plan made it easier.

Placating her friends about Elena’s presence wasn’t _that_ troublesome, and she could deal with a Turk frequenting her bar. Reno had done that, too…

Tifa frowned.

_Wait. A. Minute._

  1. **In consolation**



The final straw that broke the proverbial chocobo’s back, she supposed, had been when Cloud dared, in no certain words, cite Elena as a reason to justify staying at length in Aerith’s church.

Had he foreseen that? Was that his plan all along? Had she played right into his hand? Tifa didn’t know, and by the time she stormed into his company, she hadn’t even cared.

On the bright side, at least this farce was behind her now. Cloud had been annoyed by it, too. Both of them had been on edge because of Shin·Ra. Once they calm down, they would be able to make up. They always did.

  1. **Reno’s contemplation**



Boss man was weird.

Reno stroked his chin in deep thoughts as he strutted down the hallway together with Elena and Rude, not listening to their discussion about how energy consumption had reached an all-time high in Junon. Shin·Ra really needed to start enforcing some laws for energy conservation to prevent blackouts.

Okay, so he was listening. Half so. It came with being a Turk.

But boss man was weird.

Don’t get Reno wrong, Rufus had always been a peculiar case, but this was just weird as hell. Was Rufus really into Lockhart? Say what you would about the Pres, he should still know that what he was doing was not doing him any favor, getting-laid-wise.

“By the way, Rude, what’s with your nose? Are you okay?” Elena asked.

  1. **Where it hurts**



_“Partner, don’t you like Lockhart, too?”_

_“I used to.”_

_Scoffed. “What? Did you give up after learning ‘bout boss man’s crush?”_

_“No. Much earlier than that.”_

_“That’s sad, yo.”_

_Silence. “Did you give up, Reno?”_

  1. **There’s a script for these things**



Healen Lodge was quiet now. Files and folders were strewn across the room, and desks were askew; chairs on their back. It was fine. Reno could make the rookies clean up later. Rude seemed less inclined to the idea.

“I forgot how mean your left hook is, partner.” Reno slumped against a desk, sprawled out on the floor across from Rude, who was tilting his head back to keep the blood from dripping onto his suit.

“I forgot how hard your head is.”

Reno detected a note of sarcasm. He moved his jaw around to see if it’d popped back okay, forehead still throbbing. “Why were we fighting again?”

“You were sulking and—”

“Ah ah ah ah!” Reno kicked Rude’s leg. “You were supposed to say you don’t remember anymore!”

  1. **Reno’s partner**



“Reno did it,” Rude said. Reno didn’t follow up, and Elena immediately knew there was more to the story.

It was no longer news that Rude was often the casualty in Reno’s coltish romps, but normally Reno would be making all manner of excuses by now. With such a glaring tell, you wouldn’t have thought he was a trained agent, let alone the Turks’ second-in-command.

“Out with it, Reno.”

Reno blinked. “Out with what?”

“What happened between you two?”

Rude stayed quiet, and Reno realized his mistake. He slapped a silly grin on his face. “What do you mean? I injure Rude all the time!”

Rude made an uncomfortable grunt.

  1. **Which is it?**



Elena didn’t hide her pout and walked faster, Reno and Rude trailing awkwardly behind. If they were going to keep leaving her out then fine, she’d make it easier for them.

“Come on, ‘Lena.” Reno chased after her and careened into her personal pace, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in that sleazy fashion he’d mastered to an art. “Me and Rude just aired out some grievances was all.” The way Rude narrowed his eyes at Reno suggested he didn’t agree with how Reno had put it.

“Never mind what happened. Since we’re all here for once, how’s about tonight we all get some drinks at Seve—”

“No, thank you.” She gave him a saccharine smile. “Please count me out.”

  1. **Just end already**



Tifa got out of the car the moment it stopped in front of her bar, hoping that Tseng would simply drive off before the vehicle drew any unnecessary attention.

She could only curse her fate when the engine was turned off and Tseng got out of the driver’s seat.

  1. **Apology(s)**



“Miss Lockhart, a moment of your time.”

“Ugh, what does he want now?”

Tseng shook his head. “No, you misunderstood. I only wish to talk.” He paused. She raised an expectant eyebrow. “I hope you’ll accept my apology on Shin·Ra’s behalf for troubling you the past few weeks.”

“Oh.” Tifa felt a little silly now for being so hostile. Tseng seemed earnest enough, and at this point, any scrap of sincerity would be appreciated. “Well, just leave me alone from now on and we’ll call it even.”

The Turk was silent and just stared back at her. Her brows knitted in confusion. “Do…we have a deal?”

His dark eyes were made darker with wryness. “I’m afraid that is not up for me to decide.”

Not the response she was expecting. “Excuse me?”

For the first time, his unflappable mask wavered and he let on a sigh. “Miss Lockhart, I would like to apologize beforehand for any inconvenience we will be causing you from now on.”

It was Tifa’s turn to stare.

“I’m sorry,” she began slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “ _What?”_

  1. **Just another day (redux)**



It was just another day at the Shin·Ra, Edge HQ. Elena had been called by the President. She hummed as she turned the corner and nearly bumped into Tseng. With a slight blush, she joined Tseng as they headed up the stairs. She liked how he matched his pace with hers.

They saw Rude and Reno halfway up the stairs to the third floor, and the Turks exchanged distracted greetings and random small talks. It didn’t occur to them that they shared a destination until all four stopped in front of the President’s office, exchanging looks when no one walked on.

Come to think of it, there had been another lull in workload…

They had a terrible feeling about this.

  1. **As expected…**



“I will be having eyes in Seventh Heaven from now on,” Rufus said unceremoniously, not even looking up from his work, sounding every bit of the authentic leader giving orders, and the Turks each had a different kind of frown on their face. “And I’d like your help.”

 _This again,_ they collectively thought, unamused. Elena bit back the urge to tell Rufus to just go confess like a normal person, though she would at least give him credit for still being able to keep a straight face after everything that had transpired.

“I understand—” He closed the directory he was reading and set it aside. “Tifa Lockhart won’t make this easy, however—”

“If you would allow me to speak freely, sir.” It was Tseng that interjected, and they all looked at him, Elena and Reno with their eyes wide, while Rufus’s narrowed in displeasure.

Still, it had to be done. Before entering the office, the Turks had already come to a decision: Stop Rufus no matter what.

  1. **It may hurt but it’s because we care**



Rufus waved for Tseng to go on, which, Elena supposed, was a good sign he was open to their input.

“It’s only been a week since,” Tseng said, “She seemed very upset after I took her home. Her opinions of you are already low as is. If you’re too invasive it would only further invite her dislike.”

Elena cheered behind a blank mask. Tseng was going straight for the throat.

“Yeah boss, Lockhart is seriously pissed, yo.” Reno jumped on the momentum Tseng had set. “This isn’t how you win her heart. Sweet talk her, shower her with gifts, write love letters and all those sappy stuff you find in movies. Heck go and actually _talk_ to her instead of sitting there telling us to stalk her for you.”

 _Ouch._ Her thoughts exactly, but Reno was brutal.

“Don’t make her any madder, boss. S’not cool I can’t get my drinks in Seventh Heaven anymore cuz of you.”

The Turks gave their sworn brother narrow-eyed looks.

  1. **Initiative**



Their President was twisted, that was nothing new, but there were other ways to go about courting Tifa without enraging the woman. Elena firmly believed being straightforward was the key here, no matter how foreign a concept that might be for Rufus.

Though the trauma from her last ‘mission’ was still fresh in her mind, Elena decided to brave it.

“President, if you want Tifa to come see you, I’ll go to Seventh Heaven and relay your invitation.”

She would make this work out for her President.

  1. **Standing her ground**



Elena met Rufus’s gaze evenly. Every second that his eyes remained on her was another stone in her stomach until he relented with a sigh.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Elena,” he said, “but I don’t need Miss Lockhart to pay me a visit again. Nor would she be if everything goes smoothly.”

Elena blinked.

“If you are referring to your last mission, that matter is already over and done with. I am not so tasteless as to prolong a silly prank.”

Elena paused. So he admitted it was stupid!

  1. **Slap on the wrist**



“I have not called you here for advice.” Rufus regarded each of them with a hard look. “But since you all seem to think I’m a bumbling fool…” His eyes darkened as they fell back on Reno.

“Do you honestly think she would accept presents and… _sweet talks_ …from me without throwing them back in my face? I’m aware you’re on good terms with her, Reno. She may view you favourably, but don’t forget she was once set to destroy my legacy. And—”

Those cold eyes fell on Elena next. She flinched.

“If a single invitation was all it took. If she was someone who would give me the time of the day, you all wouldn’t have had to…ah, ‘ _stalk’_ her…in the first place.”

The Turks fell silent. Rufus assessed the room then continued.

“Now, I understand you all are under some form of impressions, the validity of which I won’t comment on, but the suggestions you’ve come up with based on those assumptions are laughably simple-minded. I know better than anyone where I stand in Miss Lockhart’s eyes.”

Sitting back in his chair, he seemed to take a deep, composing breath.

“I certainly don’t need you reminding me.”

  1. **But then Tseng cleared his throat**



“It doesn’t change the fact that what you’re having us do, sir, is ludicrous.”

Rufus’s expression didn’t change save for the slightest waver in his eyes. But, being Turks, they all saw it. Realization dawned on them. He was feigning again, wasn’t he!?

  1. **This kind of man… (redux)**



Oh. My. Goodness.

Had Cloud felt like this too?

“Not cool, Pres. Not cool.” Reno and Rude shifted in discomfort to her left. Elena cradled her face. Oh, the jarring experience of having the guilt abruptly knocked out of her.

He’d done again. Rufus had done it again. He’d played himself up as the victim and turned the conversation on them. She’d witnessed him doing this dozen of times with reporters and the like, but being on the receiving end of his sham was still…

Good Gaia. Had Tseng not pointed it out, he would’ve gotten away with it, too.

  1. **I can’t tell if he has common sense**



Leaving aside the con, Rufus’s insight into his own situation was surprisingly realistic and coherent, features that…actually shouldn’t have been surprising where Rufus Shinra was concerned. (Elena blamed his absurd wooing tactics.) He seemed to be under no illusion about Tifa’s attitude towards him and had avoided the cliché pitfall of trying to impress Tifa with wealth and power that might even prove detrimental.

But _seriously._ That didn’t mean he could just go prancing off to the other extreme and harass Tifa instead.

  1. **Miscalculation**



Rufus had miscalculated if he’d thought that cheap trick would work on Tseng.

“You are being unreasonable, sir.”

Rufus didn’t hide his displeasure from being caught. “Again, you four are here to carry out my order, not to give your opinions on it.”

“You can’t deny this is far from the standard mission,” Tseng said. “The Turks’ skills are wasted on such a target. If you wish to get a rise out of the woman you fancy – a counterproductive feat, I might add – you could hire common thugs off the side of the street and achieve the same effect.” Maybe he shouldn’t be giving Rufus ideas, but the comparison, he thought, would be effective to drive the point home.

He didn’t think Rufus would smirk at that.

“Now, just why are you still insisting I’m trying to get a rise out of Tifa Lockhart?” Rufus said, and Tseng realized his mistake. “I already said that prank is over.”

  1. **My head hurts**



“So,” Reno began with a groan, wiping his face. “You don’t actually want Lockhart to, like, know she’s being watched this time round?”

Rufus was relaxed in his chair, legs crossed, head tilted lazily against his knuckles, nothing left of his brooding charade. “That is the expectation of spying, yes. Why would you think I wanted it any other way?”

Reno admitted to himself that sometimes Rufus was _objectively_ murder-worthy.

  1. **Miscalculation (2)**



Tseng quietly conceded to his failure. The argument had hinged on the fact that the Turks were grossly overqualified to be loitering around Seventh Heaven. But that very detail had been an erroneous assumption on his part.

Rufus, being Rufus, had already moved on to another scheme. His current objective was unknown, and that was a severe disadvantage when debating with him.

  1. **Fly on the wall**



Rude had been watching, and something felt off. He knew what he’d seen in Nibelheim a year and half ago, but Rufus’s behaviours were too ambiguous right now. Rude didn’t like this one bit.

“What do you intend to achieve with this, President?” He finally spoke up, gaining everyone’s attention. It was the one question weighing on everyone’s mind, he was sure, but no one bothered asking, knowing Rufus would just say something vague to throw them off-balance again. Rufus liked that. But it should still be worth a try.

The glint of amusement in Rufus’s eyes dimmed as he looked back at Rude.

“Simple, I want to know about her day,” he said, pausing.

“Call it stalking if you must.”

There was a pin-drop silence in the office.

  1. **Okay… _not_ as expected…**



The Turks all exchanged a look. Elena pressed her lips into a thin line. Tseng had an intake of breath. Reno scratched his head. Rude fixed his sunglasses to hide a swift frown. That was a shockingly straightforward answer (but still so very puzzling). They couldn’t tell if Rufus was joking or not.

But one thing was for sure.

 _He’s lying,_ they agreed.

  1. **Changing tactic (or, Miscalculation (3))**



A good rule of thumb was this: If Rufus freely admitted to it, it was a lie. But if _that_ was a lie, then what _was_ Rufus trying to do?

“Will you at least tell us your rationale behind…spying…on Miss Lockhart this time?” Tseng said. Rufus had always prioritized rationality. It should work to Tseng’s advantage to confront Rufus with the asininity of this entire situation.

Rufus wore a fed up look. “But you’ve never needed to hear my rationale.”

“Because we could usually see it without you telling us.” To that point, they were at fault for not stopping to question Rufus during the last fiasco. It was rather sobering for Tseng, a reminder not to mindlessly obey.

Rufus smiled. “Can’t we just leave it as an irrationality of a lovesick man?”

  1. **Losing battle**



“Lockhart will get mad at you when she finds out…” Reno said.

“If she finds out,” Rufus corrected.

They were losing and they knew it.

“You promised,” Rude said, “not to bother Tifa anymore.” Reno glanced at his partner. They were on their last leg if their best arguments included emotional appeals, but dammit they had to try.

“Yeah boss, trust is real important when picking up chics.” The glare Rufus shot Reno with said he didn’t like the wording. Reno felt a modicum of satisfaction at that.

“She would only be bothered if she found out. Frankly, it’s a little disconcerting that you all are already preparing for mission failure.”

 _Shiva and Ifrit. Count to ten, Reno._ Then it occurred to Reno, something very fundamental. “Look, no matter how skilled we are, we can’t spy for you if Lockhart won’t even let us in. I’m speaking from experience, yo.” Painful experience. But did Rufus ever care?

Rufus seemed to consider his words for a moment, then said, “You seem to be misunderstanding something. I never said you four would be the spies.”

.

.

  1. **Just another day (re-redux)**



It was just another day at the Shin·Ra, Junon HQ. The gulls were crooning, the sea was calm, and the port was in boisterous motion. Veld seated himself at his desk, cracked his neck, and started thumbing through the reports his secretary had left for him. Everything was falling into routine again after the huge merger in Edge, and even with his old bones he must say it was becoming a little boring. But he didn’t bemoan it.

Past frictions aside, one must concede to the brat’s ability. He hadn’t expected returning to work for the remnants of the hated Shin·Ra Inc. could have such peaceful moments. He supposed it was worth coming back from the dead.

“Chief.” Balto, his secretary, was in the doorway knocking on the frame. He put down the report.

“What is it?”

“Urgent email from Edge, sir. Directly from the President.

.

.

  1. **Back to normal**



Tifa hefted a bundle of spilling beer mugs from the counter and set it down for the group in the corner. The heavy thud and clanging were barely audible over the raucous laughter around the table. She smiled at the men and grabbed the crumpled notes of tips before whirling around to catch a refill order shouted her way. Shelke was in charge of the other side but was slowly being overwhelmed.

“I got it!” Busy as she was, Tifa was in high spirits.

No Turks. No Shin·Ra. She’d almost forgotten how nice it was not having to consciously ignore a customer while still keeping an eye on said customer. She did miss how well Elena tipped, though. But it was a small price.

As she strode back behind the counter to fetch a bottle of scotch, she heard the bell ring and felt the quick rush of cool air that came through the door. Could be Cloud, could be another customer. Either way, smile!

“Hi Teef.” Reno simpered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I happened to be in town…”

Still smiling, she pointed the bottle towards the door, the liquid inside sloshing. “Out.”

  1. **Where loyalty lies (redux)**



It was hard watching Reno slink through the door like a puppy with its tail between its legs, but she was still mad at him. And she had every right to be mad.

_C’mon, I already said I’m sorry._

Tifa went to the kitchen and threw the towel on her shoulder at the sink. Why did she have to feel bad about being mad? Even if it’d ended up being something dumb, Reno had still picked his side _._

But then, there had never been any confusion as to his allegiance, had there?

Shelke poked her head in to ask what a greyhound was if not a monster, and Tifa said she’d be right out to show her. Tifa yanked open the fridge door with more force than necessary and looked for a grapefruit.

  1. **Where loyalty lies (redux) (2)**



_It was my job, yo. What was I supposed to do?_

She didn’t know. But that wasn’t her problem. Her problem was that she was angry at Reno, but she’d also come to like his antics, drunken or sober. She wanted to reconcile, but every time Reno showed up she would be reminded of how she’d left herself wide open.

What if it hadn’t been a stupid prank? What if Rufus Shinra had wanted something more than just entertainment? There was no end to the tales of how ruthless he was. It would still have been ‘Reno’s job.’ And she, the trusting fool she was, would have endangered not only herself but also the kids, Cloud; all her friends.

  1. **The true villain**



More than anything she felt betrayed. Somewhere along the line, Reno’s being a Turk, _Shinra’s_ Turk, had stopped being a problem for her. She’d managed to accept him for himself, as a friend, yet his first excuse had been the very uniform she’d learnt to look past.

She didn’t know if she could forgive Reno before he stopped trying to apologize to her, before he stopped bothering with her at all. But she did know her anger was misplaced. If there was anyone to hate, it was Rufus Shinra. He’d been the one pulling the strings.

But she couldn’t help how she felt.

She slammed the kitchen knife down on the cutting board one last time and split the grapefruit in two.

It was just like Shin·Ra to destroy anything good in her life.

  1. **Strife delivery service**



A week later, Tifa stood behind the counter with a hand on her hip. She examined the sealed cardboard box on the countertop, glared at the red Shin·Ra logo, then looked back to Tseng.

“What is he planning?” A naïve part of her was hoping, as unamused as Tseng had been last time, he would be on her side for once and tip her off on what Shinra was concocting.

“As I said, this package is to be delivered as soon as possible.” Tseng gave nothing away in his tone. She supposed it was naïve.

  1. **Strife delivery service (2)**



_Cloud won’t be coming back for another day,_ she said.

_It’ll be in your care then._

Tseng didn’t spare another moment in the bar after signing his name on the delivery document.

Tifa moved the box to the back and put it with other undelivered packages. Money had been paid upfront, and it wasn’t like this was the first time Shin·Ra had used their service. Back when Shin·Ra was still scraping for power in Junon, only Reno and Rude were stationed in Edge. Those two often came by to drop off Junon-bound packages and then stayed for bar opening. And she’d slowly grown accustomed to their presence.

She rummaged through the desk drawers for the expedite sticker and slap it on next to the address. Icicle Inn was the destination. Her brows knitted. Despite all odds, Shin·Ra kept on expanding.

  1. **Working hard**



It was snow and frost everywhere he looked. Damn Rufus and his luxury trips.

Cloud squinted through his goggles and pulled his muffler higher over his nose, let go of a misty breath into the wind. He turned Fenrir’s handle and forced the motorcycle to tear through the snow of the Icicle area, hoping to get away from the cold before sundown.

The expedited package had turned out to just be some random crap Rufus had wanted to put in the suite he kept reserved in the inn. Talk about extravagance.

But Cloud supposed the delivery had cost Rufus a nice sum. If he could just return home without losing finger bits to frostbite, the money would be worth it.

  1. **Working hard (2)**



Cloud arrived in front of Seventh Heaven after half a day of travelling from Bone Village. There was a light drizzle in the area, giving the streets that earthy stench that didn’t agree with his heightened sense of smell. Still, home sweet home. With a sigh, he killed the engine and climbed off Fenrir to lead it into the garage. After giving Fenrir a quick checkup, he pulled the cover over the motorcycle and went up into the bar.

It didn’t seem too crowded today, which was good since Shelke wouldn’t be around to help out for a while. He caught Tifa’s gaze from behind the counter and smiled at her, approaching.

“Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be—” He quickly hid his face in his arm and, “Achoo!…Back.” Great.

  1. **Something warm**



Tifa asked if he was getting a cold as he climbed to sit on one of the stools, and he denied that being the case. But she still insisted on making him something hot and disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she emerged with a steaming cup that smelt of cinnamon and alcohol, and some other ingredients he couldn’t name.

Buttered rum, she introduced, and he wrinkled his nose. That anyone thought drinking butter would be a good idea. “Drink it.” Her tone warned him against wasting food. She pushed it toward him and left to take a customer’s order. He wrapped his hands around the cup and let the heat burn his cold palms. One reluctant sip later, he found it not to be as bad as he’d thought. He didn’t really care for seconds, though.

A customer slipped into the seat next to him and pointed a white-gloved finger at his drink, asking him if it was good because she wanted one too.

Staring at the brown foam inside his cup, he smiled. “It’s really good.”

  1. **Her attention**



“I wonder if Reeve knows what Shin·Ra is doing in Icicle Inn.”

Cloud blinked and lowered the cup from his lips. “Why?” It wasn’t like her to be curious about Rufus.

“Aren’t you worried about that package? They might expand again.”

“Oh.” She meant the company. Cloud elected not to correct her assumption. He had a feeling she would get mad if she knew he might be getting a cold delivering three sets of white suits and an armful of overpriced toiletries to Rufus’s retreat cabin. She’d been worked up about Rufus for a while already, (Cloud was actually starting to feel mildly sorry for Reno who kept getting booted from the bar. Mildly.) and Cloud didn’t want her to bother with the likes of Rufus.

  1. **A cancelled plan**



“Anyway, I need to make it up to you, don’t I? The fair is over, so I guess we have to go somewhere else. How about the farm?”

Her shoulders became stiff, her smile strained. “It’s fine, Cloud. You don’t have to…”

“I want to.” He tried for a reassuring smile. “We could check on Chocs and Vann, take them for a ride. It’s been a while. I bet the birds miss you.”

Her eyes drifted in thinking of the chocobos they’d bred with their meagre savings, her smile a little more relaxed. “All right. When?”

He went over his delivery schedule. “How about Saturday? We could take the kids with us.” If that would make her more comfortable.

Tifa was about to agree when he sneezed again. Twice. Thrice. “Um, Cloud…”

“No, I’m fine. Promise.” He rubbed his nose with his thumb, thinking about visiting the auntie three doors down to ask for the herbal medicine she was always bragging about.

  1. **Hesitance**



The bar was quiet now, only the tapping of raindrops on the glass window left as Tifa took out the broom to clear away the trash and food debris. She could hear water rushing inside the pipes on the wall as Cloud finally listened to her and took a shower.

She paused mid-sweep and looked down at her right hand, at the fading tan line on her ring finger; ran her other thumb over it. Sighed.

Cloud was trying too hard.

  1. **Worth trying hard for**



It was already late afternoon when Cloud woke up on Friday, feeling a little groggy. The rain from last night still hadn’t stopped. He hopped out of bed and stretched, his muscles sore and his throat itchy. He wasn’t sure if the medicine he’d gotten was helping, but he should still bring something to the auntie as thanks.

After cleaning himself up, he came down to the bar just as Tifa was welcoming the kids back from school. He grinned at how excited Denzel and Marlene were about tomorrow. They’d always loved animals.

Tifa interrupted their chatter and told them to go take a shower and get ready for dinner. He grinned wider at how they immediately obeyed even as they complained.

  1. **When work is work**



Cloud was humming a small tune as he put down the chairs for bar opening when a dry cough surprised him. He glanced over his shoulder at the counter and was glad Tifa wasn’t there to hear him.

The sound of the bell brought his gaze to the door. “Excuse me.” A small woman was standing in the doorway with a soaked grey hoodie pulled low over her face and a sizable box tucked under her arm. “Is this the Strife Delivery Service?” she asked between gasps of air.

  1. **Another cancelled plan**



The package was to go to North Corel. The client wanted the machine parts delivered to her sister as soon as possible for some business transaction and it couldn’t wait. Even if Cloud were to break the sound barrier, he wouldn’t be able to make it back by tomorrow for the promise.

“It’s really not a problem,” Tifa told him, but he could see the disappointment behind her smile even as the darkness of day descended over them. “We can go another time.”

Fenrir’s engine stuttering beneath him, he pursed his lips and ruffled his hair. “Go with the kids to the farm tomorrow. We promised them, remember?” He added when she began to protest. “At least one of us should make good on our words.”

“Have fun for me too, okay?” He smiled and waited for her to smile too before pulling his goggles down and speeding away.

  1. **At the farm**



Even from afar, the air already smelt of poultry, of hay and fertilizer. It was almost nostalgic of the barns back in Nibelheim.

Tifa thanked the truck driver for the ride and led the children toward the farm. Well, more like they led her. Marlene, especially, was dragging Tifa along as she ran from fence to fence, pointing at the chocobos wandering on the lush grass bed. Several friendly birds even came up to the fence, dipping their heads low so that the children could pat their beaks.

She smiled at the lovely scene. Was it selfish of her to feel relieved Cloud hadn’t been able to come with them?

“Careful okay?” she said. “They can be pretty flighty.”

“Okaaay,” the children sang.

It wasn’t long before Tifa and Choco Billy had to chase after Denzel, the boy hanging precariously from Choc’s neck as the bird sprinted across the farm in a storm of feathers, dust, and noisy warking.

  1. **Trying hard**



Cloud had a little nagging migraine from the heat of the desert. As he waited for the people at the Corel Post Office to process the package, Cloud flipped his PHS out and dialled Tifa. It was already evening in Edge, and Denzel and Marlene sounded like they’d had fun, save for a few mishaps, that was.

After Tifa shooed the kids upstairs, he finally got her back on the other end. She told him to rest up before coming back. Ever the worrywart.

“I’m fine. I’ll drop by Barret’s before I leave. Want me to pass along anything?”

“No need,” she said. “Just mount him onto the bike and bring him back with you.”

They chuckled.

“I’ll tell him to visit.” He nodded at the clerk who handed him the confirmation slip and headed for the scorching sun outside.

“Stay safe.”

“Mn, I’ll be back soon.”

  1. **Many cancelled plans**



Cloud couldn’t be imagining it.

When he didn’t have any delivery and wanted to go out for coffee with Tifa, a client came knocking with an expedited package. On his day off, he invited Tifa to come with him and watch fireworks in Kalm Square, but Fenrir broke down. It took a whole day of dismantling and testing before the seized engine mysteriously roared back to life.

He thought of eating out as a family and every single restaurant within walking distance was full (how that was ever possible eluded him still). The movies? Oh, you bet there was a fire alarm. Five minutes into the show. False. Joining her on her daily jog? It rained cats and dogs. He tried the morning coffee again and of course, another freaking expedited package came to their doorstep.

If he wasn’t damn sure Aerith and Zack were watching over him, he would have sworn someone up there had it out for him.

  1. **Trying too hard**



“Wait I can still…” was all a red-nosed and bleary-eyed Cloud managed to mumble before Tifa shoved him back down on his bed and pulled a thick blanket over him.

“No.”

“I already took my meds…” His voice was muffled by the blanket, nasal.

“For Gaia’s sake, Cloud, rest!”

“But the first snow…”

Unbelievable. “You want to go out in the snow like this!? I could use you to boil tea right n—no! Lie down!” She threw another blanket on top of the first. “You better still be in bed when I come back!”

She rushed past the children lingering by the door, telling them not to get close lest they caught it from Cloud, and headed down to the kitchen to make some porridge. By the time she returned with a warm bowl, Cloud had already fallen asleep, still muttering about promises and deliveries in his shallow breaths.

  1. **Be back soon**



The sharp tang of cough syrup permeated the dim room when Tifa entered. Cloud slept still. She reached down to brush back his hair, matted with sweat. Forty-seven degree, last she checked, but it seemed to be lower now. He recovered fast, but it meant his fevers were that much more intense compared to the normal person. She changed the ice pack on his forehead and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

She looked over her shoulder to meet with half-lidded, glowing blue eyes.

“Sleep, Cloud. I’ll be back soon.”

Shelke was already home so it should be okay. Tifa pulled on a coat as heavy as the sigh stagnating in her chest and checked on the children again before heading out into the snow.

  1. **No appointment**



“All right, I’ll send someone down shortly.”

Rufus stood by his desk and pressed a button on the phone cradle to terminate the line.

“Like I said,” Tseng said from over at the couch, pulling Rufus’s gaze to him. “A failure. Or was this what you were planning all along?” Rufus’s jaw tightened for a split second before the nonchalance returned.

“I wonder.” Rufus returned to the cocktail table and seated himself. His demeanour held a contemplative stillness to it as he picked up his unfinished teacup. Tseng had no doubt many schemes were being discarded, many new ones formed, behind those down-turned eyes as Rufus brought the porcelain to his lips.

  1. **Dog of Shin·Ra**



“It’s not a good habit to conceal mission objectives from your agents, sir.” Tseng adopted a lighter tone to mask the lecture. Rufus had never liked those, and Tseng counted it a blessing he didn’t have to give them quite as much anymore. Until recently, that was.

Rufus swallowed and placed the cup down on the small plate with a clink. “Tseng.”

“Yes?”

“Go fetch Miss Lockhart.”

Tseng looked up from his own cup. “Hardly something I should be doing.”

Rufus sat back and smiled. Tseng got to his feet after downing the rest of his tea, adjusting his suit with a tug. How utterly childish.

  1. **Concern of an aide (redux)**



Tseng accompanied Tifa past the glass wall that stared out into the city of snow and slated steel, their pace a stroll compared to the hurried tempo of the other employees. Neither side had spoken since the simple greetings down in the lobby, and Tseng observed.

The woman was calmer than he’d expected even though the wrong done this time was more egregious, at least in his opinion. He might actually not have to worry about her possibly dealing irreparable damage to Rufus after he was gone.

  1. **Paradox**



_Leave us once you’ve escorted her up,_ Rufus had said.

What Tseng had heard was that Rufus had something to hide, something Rufus knew Tseng would disapprove. It would be so easy. Just a casual tap behind that cheap wool coat to guide Tifa around a corner and he would have access to the conversation that would be taking place behind closed doors.

But he had no intention to pry. If Rufus felt it so important to keep lying, Tseng would respect that. Even years ago, Rufus had always liked his privacy of thought, and the closer something got to his heart, the more distant and dishonest he became.

It made one wonder. Tseng knocked and opened the door, gestured for Tifa to go on in.

_I’m in love, Tseng, not a war._

Just how much of those words was the truth?

  1. **Impromptu**



Might as well, he decided.

The warm, mellow scent of chrysanthemum caressed the air he breathed. Rufus blew at the tea, drank, and settled into the cold leather of the armchair. The knock on the door drew his attention, and he allowed himself a glance to the carved mahogany as it opened.

She walked in with a flush to her cheeks, snowflakes still in her hair, and a coat that didn’t fit, draped over her like a clunky brown dress. It was interesting how she could still look so good in something that didn’t look good on her. Of course, he was completely biased at this point. Their eyes met and hers hardened with dislike. She came up to the cocktail table and stood just at the edge of his vision, arms folded. If his observation of the clear amber in his cup was a mean of escape, he’d never admit to it.

She wasn’t supposed to come, and he wasn’t supposed to receive her; wasn’t prepared to. But here she was. He might as well make the best of it.

  1. **Invitation**



He was sipping tea from a porcelain cup, the mere sight made her fingers curl. Tifa hadn’t planned on seeing him again, but then planning hadn’t exactly gone well the past few weeks, had it?

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Good afternoon, Miss Lockhart,” he said with his gaze on his tea.

“Answer the question.”

“As you can see—”

“Do not. Even,” she warned.

He smirked and glanced out the corner of his eyes at her. “Well, would you like to join me? I’m quite enjoying it.” His tone hinted he wasn’t entirely talking about the tea.

  1. **Taunt**



A small office near the end of a hallway, hemmed in by heavy shelves and drawers. If she started smacking its owner around a bit, how long would it take for help to arrive? she wondered darkly.

Tifa held her tongue and reminded herself not to be pulled into his pace. Because he would no doubt try. Already doing that. Her distress, his entertainment. Shinra reached for a new cup from the tray, filling it with steaming hot tea.

“Have my Turks bothered you again?” His voice was almost drowned out by the trickling of water; his eyes moved back to her with a challenge.

  1. **Let me give you a hint**



He knew she had no evidence to hold against him. His Turks, or whoever it was that had done his bidding, had done their job perfectly. She would have lived her life thinking her cancelled plans with Cloud had just been a string of coincidences…if it hadn’t been for that package he’d had delivered to Icicle.

That was what that package had been, hadn’t it? The signal for the start of a new game.

“Who is it?” he asked. He put the cup he’d just filled onto a plate and placed it in front of the couch as if someone—as if Tifa would be sitting there. He looked back to her again, his gaze tinged with dark amusement. “Tell me and I’ll make sure they won’t ever come near you again.”

Her heart skipped an ugly beat.

  1. **Realization**



_Hypothetically,_ she’d asked.

 _Hypothetically,_ he’d confirmed.

The memory of that night in Kalm came back in a blur of blue and white, of salt on her lips and frost in his eyes, of the words he’d said and the words she’d said.

_Wouldn’t you look my way?_

Her mouth parted but words failed her for a moment. It felt awfully like the sensation of having the wind knocked out of her, and adrenaline flooded her system as if a dam had broken.

“Did you think I would thank you, Shinra?” she managed in disbelief. There was a pleased glint in blue eyes, happy she was catching on at last.

  1. **A presumptuous one**



The man was unbelievable. Incomprehensible. She’d known he hadn’t been happy with her answer, and maybe it had been stupid of her for thinking it was fine to mock him with hypotheticals. But for him to hold it against her, for him to go this far just to prove her wrong.

“Stop it,” she said, her voice climbing in volume. “I don’t need you to do anything.” He picked up his cup for another sip, leisurely slow. Her hands curled a little tighter. “Do you hear me Rufus Shinra?”

“Miss Lockhart,” he said over her. His eyes remained down-casted at his cup, and the light smile on his face didn’t match the ice-laden tone when he said, “You must be mistaken. I don’t recall doing anything for you.”

  1. **The what**



Tifa silently seethed. If there had been any sliver of gratitude toward him these past weeks, it was well gone now. He continued to sip tea without a care. She had a feeling she knew what to do, but to do it would be to hand him his victory. The question rested like bitter thistle on her tongue and she could neither swallow nor spit it out.

Her mind flickered back to Cloud, his shallow breaths muttering of promises, his flushed cheeks and burning skin. Her blunt nails dug into the leather gloves she wore. She took in a breath.

“What…” she began. Shinra still carried on as if she didn’t exist. The shards of her pride pricked. “What do you want from me?”

If she knew anything about him at all, the smirk on his face was one of triumph.

  1. **Invitation (2)**



“Please,” he said, motioning toward the couch.

Rufus watched her walk around the table with the overcasting gloom of someone heading toward a funeral and sit down on the edge of the couch, behind the teacup he’d set for her, her back stiff. A harmless request had managed to make her this reluctant. She truly was making it too easy.

He swallowed a wry chuckle and maintained his polite smile, asking how her tea was. She gave a noncommittal answer, rubbing a nervous thumb over the glazed rim even as she assumed a mask of calm. Such a waste of Tseng’s brew. He doubted she’d tasted anything besides the heat from her hasty gulps.

  1. **Impromptu (2)**



A part of Rufus wondered if unspeakable things were running through her mind. Blackmail in any form had never boasted enviable repute, and as his aide had so kindly pointed out her opinion of him was already quite low. Or perhaps she wasn’t thinking about him at all.

“Say.” Her eyes darted to him, alert and wary. He paused momentarily to go over his tight schedule. Tseng would give him an earful for this. “Join me for dinner on Friday. We can go anywhere you want.” And he enjoyed how her confused frown descended into one of suspicion.

  1. **Not falling for it**



“Of course, I will be responsible for any expenses. And I can also arrange for compensation should it affect your business.”

Dinner. Tifa considered as she rolled the cup between her palms, warmth seeping through her gloves. He patiently waited. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but a dinner seemed benign enough. Unless there were more to his plan. That was always the case with him. Just layers after layers of deception.

“And you’ll stop?” she asked. He only smirked with a shameless tilt of his head. Tifa discreetly clicked her tongue. He still wasn’t going to admit to anything.

  1. **Anywhere you want**



Tifa accepted. Because she needed him to stop much more than he needed her to dine with him. She didn’t want any compensation as Shelke should be able to hold down the fort until she returned. After deciding on a time, the question of where to have the dinner followed.

As tempting a thought as getting him to pay for some fancy restaurant was, Tifa quickly dismissed it. She didn’t know of a place, and if she just picked from the big names there was no guarantee the food would suit her taste. (And her wardrobe would be a problem, too.) An expensive meal wouldn’t hurt him or his wallet as much as she would like anyway. Instead, let’s aim for the places he would never set foot in.

Attack the refined palate she was sure he had.

  1. **Anywhere you want (2)**



“Sephan and Ollie’s,” she said. It was a frog cuisine eatery run by a very nice, albeit menacing-looking, married couple who came from Bone Village.

He seemed to think over a sip of tea. “I’ve heard of it. Denied.” She frowned. “Far be it from me to judge your preferences, Miss Lockhart, but I’m not eating slime-skinned amphibians.”

“You said anywhere I wanted.”

“Please be reasonable now. You’ve agreed to join me for dinner. It wouldn’t be much of one for me if I can’t eat.”

Tifa rolled her eyes and flicked off all the ‘special’ restaurants from her list of considerations. She supposed it was immature of her, and, on another reflection, she should just get this dinner over with and not try to get back at him. He had resources and people at his disposal. If they were to trade metaphorical blows she could only lose. ( _Real_ blows, however…)

“There’s a Midelese grill down in the square.”

“I don’t like Midelese food.” He shrugged at her glare. “There are always more herbs and spices than excusable on any cubic inch of a dish.”

  1. **Anywhere you want (that I want, too)**



He questioned the cleanliness of a sushi bar because he’d never heard of it. His allergy to shellfish was most likely just him not wanting to deal with the shell-on shrimps in Gongagan soups. And Gaia forbid should he pick up a simple burger with bare hands.

Tifa resisted wiping her face and shrugged off her coat, starting to feel warm from the tea. It was definitely not because she needed something to use as a makeshift stress ball.

  1. **That’s kind of the point**



“How about a Junon diner?”

“Name?”

“Chewnon.”

“No.”

“What’s wrong with the place this time?” _Your Highness._

Without even batting an eyelash, he said, “The name is a joke.”

Tifa had to consciously stop herself from crushing the teacup in her grasp.

  1. **Invalid excuse**



While Tifa might concede that the name had been chosen in bad taste, whether he liked it or not shouldn’t affect his ability to eat the food on the menu. Enjoyment was not a factor being discussed here, she said. They were eating at Chewnon because she wanted to and he could afford to.

“How about _you_ be reasonable!”

He might as well have collapsed back into his seat with the suffering huff he blew out the corner of his pout. Oh, goodness. How insensitive of her for not realizing _he_ was the martyr this whole time.

  1. **Small victory**



“I’ll see you at Chewnon,” she said, and revelled at his open distaste for the name. Tifa wasn’t able to enjoy much of it, however, as her mind still boggled at the fact that she actually had plans with Rufus-freaking-Shinra. With her coat bundled into a tight square in her arms, she got up and made a beeline for the door.

“I don’t mind sending a car, Miss Lockhart,” he said just as she touched the doorknob.

She turned to look him square in the eye. “I will see you there.” It was not a bargaining point. The diner was as blue-collar as those came, and she wasn’t about to climb out of some posh, hundred-thousand-gil vehicle to eat there. Shinra was free to regale the place with his pomposity by himself.

From the chair, he held her gaze, chin on his knuckles, and she prepared for another pointless argument. “Very well.” She blinked.

“And I will pay for my own food.” She ventured.

“If you insist.”

He was yielding too easily again. Her eyes thinned in suspicion, but she didn’t comment on it and simply left without hearing his farewell.

  1. **It’s not over**



It was late morning of the next day that Tifa found a black smudge waiting in front of her doorstep when she came back from some emergency grocery shopping for Cloud. Reno seemed to both perk up and shrink away as he saw her approaching. She glanced around. No Shin·Ra car, at least.

“What’s this?” Balancing the grocery bag in one arm, she took the sealed paper folder Reno was holding out for her. Reno shuffled nervously under her gaze.

“Restaurant inspection report for Chewnon.”

  1. **Don’t punch the messenger!**



Reno staggered from the force that hit his chest as Tifa shoved the unopened folder back into his arms. “Chewnon or no deal.” She pronounced each word with vehemence. The red annoyance in her eyes was one that always preceded the throwing out of troublemakers in Seventh Heaven. “Make sure you tell him that.”

She turned to march inside and he went after her. _If she refuses to read, Reno, it’s your duty to make sure that she’s informed._ Damn Rufus foreseeing everything. “Wait, Teef. Hear me out! That place is pretty nasty.” It wasn’t a lie. Chewnon had some rather disturbing practices with their seafood that barely adhered to food codes.

Tifa kept her back to him and placed her groceries on the closest table.

“Recently they discovered a rat inf—” Reno saw her shoulders tense, her weight shift as she spun around.

There was a breath drawn in the darkness, as if exasperated. “What are you doing?”

Reno cracked open his eyes and peeked out from behind the folder he’d put up as a shield, at Tifa standing akimbo. “N-nothing.” He hastily lowered the folder and straightened himself.

  1. **Informed**



“Chewnon or no deal,” she repeated.

The part of Reno that _really_ cared for her leapt to action. “But the place—”

“I know.” He blinked dumbly at the flicker of mischief in the smile she sent over her shoulder. His mouth dropped open.

A grin began on his face even as he said, “You really shouldn’t, Teef.” Who knew what the Pres would do—would make the Turks do now? And the questionable food at Chewnon…ugh. But the notion that she was actually trying to take Rufus down with her had a note of irony that was too amusing to forego the grin.

Tifa shooed him with her hand and started rummaging through her grocery. “None of your business, Turk. I’ve survived on worse when you were still chasing AVALANCHE around. I need to take care of Cloud now, so come back later when the bar opens.”

“All right,” he said after a short, observant pause as he watched her go through the miscellaneous items on the counter. Since she was already informed, Reno supposed his job here was done. So, he left.

  1. **Forgiven**



It wasn’t until Reno had crossed the street two blocks away that he realized—

_Come back later when the bar opens._

Reno whirled around staring at the direction he’d just come from. And he did a happy dance all the way back to the company.

  1. **Short-lived triumph**



Chewnon was of modest size, tucked between another restaurant and six-gil barbershop in the mall. Tifa stood in the doorway of the diner taking in the cracked red-white tiling, the gaudy, worn neon blue chairs. “Shinra.”

“Yes?” he said from next to her, dressed in his monochrome colours, business casual, glowing with smug. Her fingers found the bridge of her nose. She pinched, her other hand on the hip of her cargo pants.

“Where—” She breathed. “—are the other customers?” The normally rowdy diner was dead quiet, empty save for him and her, and something about the air felt sterile, almost barren, without the musk of people and smoke from an agglomeration of sizzling dishes.

“Perhaps they’re experiencing a slow day. Might has to do with the chaotic _feng shui_ I’m seeing.” His voice was overly facetious.

“Is that—” She pointed beyond the fake-wood counter, at a ‘restaurant employee’ who, while donning a wrinkled yellow apron with _Chewnon_ written on the front, moved with the anchored gait of one well-versed in combat. “—a Turk handling the food?”

He smiled down at her. “Per our agreement, dinner at Chewnon.” He raised his wrist to check the time before his eyes came back to hers. A gloved hand gestured inside. “Shall we?”

Her right fist twitched and she buried it in the pocket of her coat as a reign. It wasn’t like Tifa particularly cared about what he’d done to the diner. Nor had she been that keen on self-destructing with him. But she just wished, to whichever deity out there that was listening, just once, please let her wipe that smirk off his face.


End file.
